


Courtship

by ShirosRedKnight (SweetFanfics)



Series: Royals [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Background Hance, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Misunderstandings, Modern Royalty, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Prince Shiro, background shayllura, mild enemies to friends to lovers, school yard bullying, very mild blood and violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-03-13 05:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13564044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/ShirosRedKnight
Summary: If there’s one thing Shiro hates about being the Crown Prince, it’s the way people treat him. They make exceptions for him purely on the basis of his rank, not his merit. But that’s not to say that that same attitude doesn’t help him get out of tight spots from time to time.To get out of the library fine, he’s going to be his most charming self, explain that he’s misplaced the book in question, and surely the person in charge can overlook the fee just this once?Wrong.--A love story that starts from misunderstandings, moves into the realization that there's more to each other than meets the eye, and goes so much further.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you've been following me on twitter there's no writing-related topic I've bitched about more than this dumbo fic. I decided to just throw fuck all to the wind and start posting it. While part 1 of this AU _is_ complete, I'm still in the process of editing it.
> 
> Presently the rating is Teen & Up but it'll go to Explicit eventually.
> 
> Special thanks to egglorru for their wicked editing skills. Additional thanks to all the people who listened to my complaining and kept encouraging me to work on this fic.
> 
> Above all, thank you to Amanda, who is the godmother of this fic. We jammed this whole AU out over 2 years ago and when I told her I was doing this for NaNoWriMo 2016 was like "The whole story (all 3 parts) won't be shorter than 300k, you know that right?" (I knew...but I still foolishly started because I didn't have any other ideas in mind....)

* * *

If there’s one thing Shiro hates about being the Crown Prince, it’s the way people treat him. He’s not talking about the protocols or all the rules he’s supposed to follow. No, it’s about the way people bend the rules for him. They make exceptions for him purely on the basis of his rank, not his merit. Shiro finds it maddening the way people jump to accommodate him as a Prince.

 

He loathes the way that being treated differently, _better_ makes him frequently question his own skills. Is he even worthy of the special treatment being allowed him? How is he expected to prove himself when most of the people around him are giving him special treatment?

 

But that’s not to say that that same attitude doesn’t help him get out of tight spots from time to time. He’s only human. In fact, Shiro’s hoping that he’ll be able to use his status as the Crown Prince to wriggle out of some library fines. The last thing he wants is his dad finding out he’s lost a library book. Just imagining the lecture he’d get for being “irresponsible with public property” and “setting a bad example as the future leader of the nation” makes Shiro’s skin crawl and stomach tighten.

 

As he heads towards the school library, Shiro mentally rehearses what he’s going to say. He’s going to be his most charming self, explain that he’s misplaced the book in question, and surely the person in charge can overlook the fee just this once?

 

 _Yeah, good. Perfect._ Shiro nods to himself, sneakers squeaking against the floor, the sound masked under the general hubbub filling up the halls. The school day ended well over thirty minutes ago, but a fair amount of students continue to linger. Standing by their lockers, gossiping with their friends as they put off going to their after-school activities.

 

They’re all kids from well-off families, the state of their uniforms ranging from perfectly in-line with school guidelines to just barely meeting the minimum requirements. Part of the lacrosse team passes him by, joking loudly as they shove at each other. A couple of them holler his name, holding their palms out for a quick slap that Shiro is quick to reciprocate.

 

He’s turning the corner when a voice carries over most of the ruckus, “Hey Shiro! Wait up!”  

 

Shiro turns, eyes darting around the crowd in search of the source. He’s done one sweep of the hallway and is starting a second before he catches sight of Lance jogging up to him, messenger bag bouncing on his hip.

 

“Where you off to?”

 

Nodding behind him, Shiro answers, “Gotta go to the library. Need to talk to someone about a book.”

 

“Cool. I’m going to the club to meet Hunk and the others,” Lance points down the hallway behind him with his thumb, “You staying around or going home after? The club was going to go get pizza once we were done.”

 

“Home,” Wry amusement and regret clash together in his voice. “Mom needs me to help her with some stuff.”

 

The lanky boy nods, grinning in sympathy as he pats Shiro’s shoulder. “Good luck. I’ll see you tomorrow? Oh and don’t forget to bring that DVD. I’ll text you a reminder.”

 

“I’m not you,” Shiro jokes, laughing when Lance flips him the bird before walking away. Following his friend's example, Shiro turns towards his destination as well. He can make out the library’s double doors at the end of the hall and jogs towards them, eager to get this over and done with so that he can go home.

 

He skids the last couple of inches towards the floor, rubber-soled shoes squeaking in protest at the act. As soon as he comes to a stop, Shiro takes a quick minute to make sure he looks presentable. He makes sure his shirt is tucked neatly into his pants, the knot of his tie rests right under his buttoned shirt collar, and his blazer is closed with one button.

 

Shiro tries to catch his reflection in the door’s small glass window but there’s not enough light. All he can do is sweep his hand through his dark fringe, pat the rest of his short-cut hair down and hope for the best. If he wants this to work, he needs to look his most princely.

 

 _Shouldn’t have worn the Converse sneakers_ , he muses, eyes sweeping over his form for one last check. _Oh well. Not like they’re going to be looking at my shoes anyways_.

 

Shiro presses his palm against the door and pushes.

 

The large room is well-lit and utterly quiet, shelves lining the walls. Four by four tables litter the room, many of them taken by students partaking in individual or group study sessions. There’s several students milling around the bookshelves as well, pulling books off their rack and perusing their back before slipping them back in their place.

 

Long-ingrained habit has Shiro counting the room’s occupants and exit points before he steps further in, quietly letting the door fall shut. He glances over the short display shelves, disinterest filling him when he realizes that most of them are books on Greek mythology. Instead, he turns his attention to the L-shaped check-out counter and office across the room from him.

 

Shiro can see one student busily sorting books out on a cart behind the desk and that’s about it. He’s got his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, shirt untucked, top button open to reveal the high collar of a dark t-shirt. The guy is shaking his head and muttering something to himself as he ducks down and out of Shiro’s vision. He looks familiar for some reason...

 

So Shiro’s eyes drift up, looking through the large glass windows and into the head librarian’s office. He finds himself frowning when he notes that the office lights are off. Typically he could see Mrs. Jenkins sitting at her desk clacking away at her computer. If not that, then she’s usually sitting on her two-seater couch, poring over the paperwork spread across the low desk, cat-eye glasses perched too high up her beak-nose.

 

 _I wonder where she is..._  Shiro thinks to himself, glancing around the library in search of the blonde lady. But Mrs. Jenkins is nowhere to be found in the near vicinity. _No big deal,_ he tells himself as he locks his gaze on the dark-haired student behind the desk. _I’ll just talk to this guy and convince him to help me out._

 

He adjusts his course so that he steps up to the part of the desk that’s in the other student’s vision. Shiro gently raps his knuckles against the wooden table, waiting for the guy to notice him. But the other boy continues to work away, most of his face turned away from Shiro’s sight.

 

Shiro waits for half a minute before clearing his throat, “Excuse me?”

 

The guy finally turns to look at him. Shiro is immediately struck by two things: how lovely this guy’s eyes are, and how rapidly the flicker of recognition in his eyes turns to cool disinterest. He places the book in his hand back on top of a tottering pile before walking up to Shiro, asking in a dull but polite tone, “How can I help you?”

 

Shiro flashes the brunet his best 100-megawatt smile, making sure his voice is low and sheepish when he answers, “I sure hope so. I was hoping to talk with Mrs. Jenkins about something. Is she here?”

 

“She’s out sick. Won’t be back till Tuesday. Is there anything I can help you with?”

 

“I guess that depends. I wanted to talk to her about a library fine?”

 

The boy’s polite facade cracks. There’s clear weary irritation coloring his tone when he asks, “Do you want to dispute a fine or- Hang on.” He holds a finger up,  gesturing for Shiro to wait as he moves towards the student who has come up to the desk with three books in his arms.

 

Shiro watches the boy work, taking in the swiftness with which his hands move and the ease with which he rattles off the rules to the student. Who laughs, “I know Keith, I know. I’ll have them back by Friday.”

 

 _So his name’s Keith_. Shiro files the information away. Same way he notes down the way the other students words make Keith crack a small smile.

 

“Don’t eat and read,” Keith warns, pointing a finger at the student who sweeps the books into his bag before nodding and trotting out. He slides the barcode wand reader back into its slot before moving back to Shiro. “Sorry, you were saying? Something about library fines?”

 

Shiro nods as he starts again, tone friendly but embarrassed. Like he’s confessing a secret to a friend. “Yeah. I actually did something super dumb and lost the book that I’d checked out. It was a copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. I’d checked it out for a book report but I dunno. I lost it somewhere at home and can’t find it. So I know I’m going to have to pay a fine for that but I was hoping you could do something and just... make it disappear?”

 

He shoots Keith a smile that’s convinced cooks to give him an extra slice of the chocolate cake, a French diplomat to gift him with a peacock shaped brooch, and his parents to let him stay up an extra 30 minutes so he can catch the ending of his favorite movie when he was 10.

 

This smile has always worked to his favor. When it follows his request, more often than not, strangers will melt and agree. And that is exactly what he expects Keith to do. Keith’s hard expression will melt into gentle understanding, he’ll see what he can do, walk over to the computer, hit some buttons, and make the book replacement fee go away. Problem solved.

 

Only, Keith doesn’t do that.

 

He simply raises one disbelieving eyebrow high and drawls, “Yeah. No. if you lost the book then you have to pay the fee to replace it. That’s the rules.”

 

It’s not going according to plan but that doesn’t make Shiro panic. He presses his palms together in a gesture of supplication towards Keith, “Please? It’d mean a lot to me if you could help out. I’d owe you one.” Shiro’s cheeks are starting to ache slightly as he holds the smile in place.

 

“More like you owe the library a book,” Keith retorts immediately, uninterested to the max as he shifts over the computer. Shiro watches with rising bewilderment as he clicks the mouse a few times and snorts. “ _And_ you’ve got some overdue fines too. $11.50.”

 

Well that’s a plot twist. Shiro stares in confusion at Keith, arms dropping down to his side. This is arguably the first time someone in the entire school has refused to budge when he’s made a request. Granted it’s also the first time he’s tried to weasel out of paying a fine but...

 

“You’re kidding right?”

 

Keith’s voice is as dry as a bleached bone in the Sahara. “I never kid about library fines. You can either pay now or I’m going to have to send a letter to your house explaining what happened. You’ll have to pay the overdue fees and either pay for a new book or bring us a new copy of _Dracula_.”

 

“I’m a _prince_ ,” Shiro finds himself exclaiming, shaking his head in disbelief. “You can ignore a $10 fine for once and no one will know.”

 

“ _I’ll_ know. And just because you’re a prince doesn’t mean you’re entitled to special treatment.” Keith smirks as he crosses his lean arms across his chest. “I’m sure you’ll be able to afford replacing the book. After all, you _are_ a prince, just like you said. What’s it gonna be? You gonna pay up now or-?”

 

Shiro shrugs helplessly, “I don’t have any money on me.”

 

He’s not sure he likes the smirk that immediately blossoms on Keith’s face. In fact, his heart starts to sink down into his shoes when Keith moves over to the computer terminal again. “I guess that means a notice is going to your house then, Your Highness.”

 

The taunt has Shiro’s jaw falling down. “You wouldn’t.”

 

“I’m going to fill the letter out right now.” Keith’s fingers fly across the keyboard, filling out whatever it is he’s seeing on the screen. “You’re going to have to pay a total of $16.99 before the end of next week or else you’re going to get detention. Have a nice day.”

 

\--

 

Shiro braces himself the next morning as the butler brings his parents the mail. As he watches Sean walk up to the table, Shiro wonders if he can stuff a piece of buttered toast in his mouth, grab his bag, and be out of the house within the next ten seconds. He even tries to make an attempt to finish the slice of toast within three bites but nothing comes of it.

 

His father accepts the mail with a quick nod at Sean, and flips through the letters before passing several of them along to his mother, who sits on his dad’s right hand. And that it. Shiro holds his breath as his father takes a longer look at the mail, expecting him to find the letter from the school and ask, “What’s this?”

 

But that doesn’t happen.

 

As he leaves for school, Shiro wonders if maybe Keith was just screwing with him. _Or maybe the letter will arrive tomorrow_ , his brain reminds him. _They call it snail mail for a reason_.

 

Which is a fair enough thought to have.

 

Except there’s no letter from the school the next day either. Or the day after.

 

The lack of a notice on the fourth day has Shiro assuming that that Keith was indeed just yanking on his chain. He’s not sure how he feels about that. Annoyed for the most part. But also a little intrigued that a fellow student would opt to treat him like that instead of a prince.

 

Shiro’s pondering this on Friday morning, hands working on his tie as he walks briskly towards the family dining room. He’s late and will have to grab some food and run if he’s going to make it to school on time.

 

He’s barely taken two steps into the small dining room attached to their personal kitchen when his dad asks, “Shiro, what’s this letter from your school saying you lost a book?’

 

Freezing, Shiro’s intelligent and highly articulate answer is, “Uuuhhh, I lost the book?”

 

From the stove, his mom poorly stifles a laugh. At the table, his dad sighs, “Thank you, I got _that_ part. _When_ did you lose a book? And why are we getting a notice that if you don’t pay these overdue fines you’re going to get detention?”

 

Shiro sighs dejectedly when he realizes, from his father’s no nonsense tone, he’s in for a lecture, “I’m not sure. I lost it somewhere in my room. I tried looking for it but I couldn’t find it. By the time I realized it was lost it was already overdue. So I went to talk to the librarian about it but she wasn’t there and the guy there told me he was sending the notice out.”

 

The look his father sends him makes Shiro want to squirm guiltily in his seat, “You didn’t try to talk her out of dropping the fine, did you?”

 

“No,” Shiro lies, meeting his dad’s eyes for a split second before, thankfully, looking over at the plate of fried eggs and toast his mom’s just placed in front of him. “I wanted to see how much I owed them.”

 

His mother’s hand sweeps through his hair, coming to rest at the nape of his neck as she chides him, “You should be more careful with school property, Takashi.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Shiro catches the way his dad’s still eyeing him and hopes he won’t push him on the lie. It’s a struggle not to sigh in relief when he sees his dad shake his head and turn back to the letter.

 

“$16.99 huh?” he says, unscrewing his pen before signing the rough piece of paper with a flourish. “Sean, please tell Harry to give Shiro the money before he leaves. And you,” the pen is pointed in Shiro’s direction. “Don’t get in trouble for stupid reasons. It isn't becoming of a crown prince.”

 

Shiro tries not to melt into his seat in shame.

 

\--

 

“It’s _not_ funny,” Shiro repeats, with greater exasperation as Lance’s laughter gains volume.

 

As he rubs a knuckle against his eye, catching a tear before it falls, Lance chuckles, “It’s a _little_ funny. How many princes get their library fines made part of a speech to the Parliament?”

 

Lance has barely finished his sentence before he’s bending over in half in a fresh bout of laugh. Shiro helplessly turns to Hunk for aid, only to find his large friend grinning guiltily, “Sorry Shiro. It kinda _is_ a little bit funny.”

 

“Traitors,” Shiro mutters, leaning back against the lockers as he crosses his arms. He’s keenly aware of how he’s subject to more curious looks than usual, most of them amused grins. Shiro’s not sure what his dad was thinking by bringing up his dumb library fine up in his speech but he’s paying for it.

 

 _It’s probably his way of making sure I don’t  screw up again_. Shiro makes a face, wishing his dad had thought of a better punishment than gentle public humiliation. Honestly, he wouldn’t even be in this stupid situation if it wasn’t for Keith.

 

And as though bidden by Shiro’s thoughts, the dark haired boy sweeps past Shiro and his friends, a faded red and black backpack hanging off one shoulder. Before Shiro can stop himself, he straightens up. Tells Lance and Hunk, “I’ll be right back,” and goes chasing after Keith.

 

 _He’s fast_ , Shiro realizes as he follows Keith, who is weaving in and out of the crowd like a man who’s used to slipping through the gaps that open up for him. Shiro on the other hand, bumps into at least fifty different people while getting from one end of the hallway to the next, apologizing to each of them.

 

By the time he’s through most of the crowd, Shiro realizes he’s lost sight of Keith. He has to do a full 360 degree turn before he catches sight of Keith dropping his bag on his feet, fingers rapidly twirling his locker dial from side to side.

 

Striding over to the other boy, Shiro lets his irritation climb higher and higher until he’s practically seething. Keith didn’t _have_ to do what he did. But he had. He’d been a petty asshole and Shiro had become the butt of the entire country’s jokes as a result.

 

Keith catches him coming over and smirks, one hand in his bag as he stuffs a physics book in. His amusement serves to fuel the flame burning inside Shiro’s chest, makes his voice come out a lot angrier than he intends when he says, “ _You_.”

 

“Me,” Keith snarks back, hand dipping into his locker. “How can I help you today?”

 

“Do you have _any_ idea what you did when you sent that notice my parents?”

 

Keith snorts, pushing a notebook and another book into his bag, tone nonchalant as he says, “Sorry for not making an exception for you but I’m not that kind of person. Some of us follow the rules because that’s the way the world works. Not all of us have parents who can throw money at problems and make them go away. Some of us value every damn dollar we’ve got because we understand real world consequences.”

 

There’s an underlying bitterness to Keith’s words that blows the wind out of Shiro’s sails. He can only stare at Keith as he slips his bag over his shoulder, worn strap digging into Keith’s worn gray blazer. A blazer that isn’t the same rich gray shade as Shiro’s.

 

He suddenly notices all the little details that he hadn’t that day in the library. The scruffed hem of Keith’s pants. The almost invisible stitching peeking out from underneath his shirt tails, right underneath his belt.

 

Shame fills Shiro, causing his voice to lower when he asks, “Your parents...”

 

Keith angrily slams his locker shut, the sound of which makes Shiro flinch. As he tightens his grip on his bag, Keith’s knuckles go white. His voice is sharper than a knife when he dismisses Shiro. “I’ve got classes to attend. Don’t lose another book if you’re going to have a hissy fit about it, _Your Majesty_.”

 

The title drips with disdain so venomous Shiro wants to take a step back, uncertain and pissed off in equal parts. Because what the hell has he ever done to Keith to deserve _this kind_ of hate? He opens his mouth, wanting to ask this but shock has taken his voice away.

 

Keith turns his back to him and disappears into the crowd of bodies, leaving a stunned Shiro behind by his locker.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thing's have to get a little worse before they can get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm beyond shook and moved by the extremely positive response to the first chapter. NGL I didn't think it'd get more than 5 comments lmao but anyways!! Thank you everyone for your support ; v; 
> 
> A couple more tags added to the fic. There's a brief scene of some bullying and a fight in the boy's locker room.

By the end of the day, Shiro’s public humiliation is old news. The latest hot gossip involves Jim Campbell and Barney Walker being caught red handed smoking in the boys’ bathroom. As a result, Shiro forgets about his hallway altercation with Keith. That is, until he spies Keith jogging onto the soccer field with a couple of stragglers.

 

 _That must be why he looked familiar_ , Shiro realizes, frowning at the dark haired boy. They must have shared a gym class or two before. Keith pairs up another student, beginning a series of stretches that Shiro and Lance are half-way through.

 

“Who’re you glaring at?” Lance asks, leaning back on one hand as turns his gaze to the left.

 

Shiro nods towards Keith, muttering, “That guy, with the mullet.”

 

“ _Kogane_? Shiro, you don’t want to get involved with that guy.”

 

Attention snapping back, Shiro asks, “Why not?” His brain immediately provides several possible explanations for Lance’s warning. Is Keith a troublemaker? Does he smoke? Is he into drugs? Worse?

 

Lance’s expression is full of disdain as he folds his upper body across his stretched out right leg, grumbling, “He’s an asshole. He thinks he’s better and smarter than most of us just because he got the highest score ever on the entrance exam.”

 

That’s no mean feat to pull off. Shiro’s not going to admit this to Lance, who is now presenting a bulleted list of reasons why Keith Kogane is his rival, but his impression of Keith has just improved a little. ‘Studious’ is a positive quality that makes the scales shiver and tip faintly to the other side. ‘A show off whenever he’s on the field’ makes him frown a little and adds to his impression that Keith is cocky, rude, and okay yeah, maybe Lance has a point about him being an asshole.

 

But he’s still one of the few rare people who, upon meeting him, has treated him as _just_ Shiro. Not the crown prince Takashi Shirogane.

 

Shiro curses his curiosity and moves to stand with his team as the coach gestures at a box on the sidelines, “Blue against white. You all, go grab your shirts out of the box.” The opposing team moves immediately. Shiro’s eyes find themselves following Keith’s movements, watching him slip in between two larger students to pluck a sleeveless white shirt out for himself.

 

“Move it! Move it!” The coach barks, clapping his meaty hands together. “Captains, get over here and flip for sides.”

 

As the coach brings the whistle up to his lips, ready to signal the match start, Shiro catches sight of Keith standing across the field, near the goal. He tells himself he’s not going to focus Keith for the remainder of the match. Not to make a Highschool Musical joke but Shiro’s going to keep his head in the game.

 

It’s easier said than done considering Keith’s skills.

 

Seeing Keith play soccer, Shiro understands what Lance meant when he said Keith was a show-off. He’s easily as good as the members of the soccer team. _Better_ , Shiro corrects himself when he sees Keith neatly dodge a steal attempt, nimbly kicking the ball in a sharp little curve while he jumps over the leg that’s supposed to trip him up. _I wonder why he’s not on the team_.

 

Shiro arrives at the answer on his own when he catches the dirty looks the few soccer team players shoot Keith. More people Keith doesn’t get along with. But unlike Shiro, there seems to be a dangerous fire in the trio’s eyes when they eye Keith fist bumping his team captain at successfully making a goal. Something in his gut tells Shiro there’s going to be trouble.

 

They’re less than three minutes into the second half when his instincts prove true. It happens too fast for the coach to catch but Shiro’s less than six feet away when he sees one of the soccer team players grab Keith by the back of his shirt and violently pushes him forward. Shiro cringes at the sound Keith’s body makes as it hits the ground.

 

He forgets about the match, immediately moving towards Keith to see if he’s okay. But it turns out his concerns are misplaced because Keith’s on his feet in a heartbeat, a fresh fire in his eyes that has Shiro pitying the other guy even though he doesn’t know him. Shiro almost grabs Keith by the arm, a warning on the tip of his tongue to not pick a fight.

 

But Keith’s already running away, the back of his hand swiping under his nose to check for a nosebleed. Shiro’s not sure if he wants to laugh or groan when he sees Keith trip the same guy up when the coach isn’t paying attention. The glare the guy throws at the back of Keith’s head could kill.

 

 _There’s going to be more blood before class is done_ . Shiro cringes when he sees Keith dodge a kick meant for the back of his knees. Has to slap a hand over his mouth when Keith neatly elbows the same guy in his face, grinning hard when he sees he’s caused a nosebleed. _How is the coach missing all this?_

 

Somehow, through some mad miracle, the coach _doesn’t_ call either Keith or the soccer players out for their dirty antics. He only looks up when his stopwatch beeps at him, whistling twice to signal the end of the match. Keith is immediately swept up by the rest of his team, cheering and patting each other on the back over their victory.

 

Shiro’s team however, nurses a darker mood. The blond who’d pushed Keith and the guy with the nosebleed are both glaring at Keith. Hackles raised, Shiro sticks close to them, ready to jump in just in case either of them try anything. But rather than starting anything in the coach’s sights, the pair waits until they’re all in the locker room, changing back into their uniforms.

 

He’s pulling his shirt on when a loud bang rings through the locker room, causing the friendly chatter to stutter. Shiro glances up, wondering if someone crashed into their locker. But when a second bang follows, followed by someone yelling, “Fight!”, his body moves immediately.

 

Even before he manages to force his way to the center of the circle, Shiro knows what he’s going to find. _Who_ he’s going to find fighting. Sure enough, Keith’s fighting the two larger boys, a snarl on his lips as he shoves the brunet back against the lockers. He doesn’t bother to see the boy hit metal, turning his attention to the blond coming at him.

 

He moves like someone who is used to fighting, darting away from a sharp jab before punching one of his opponents in the ribs. Shiro holds his breath when the blond manages to grab Keith by the back of his shirt. Lets out a shocked gasp when Keith twists around, dodges the punch flying his way, and kicks the other teen down.

 

“Look out!” Someone yells from the crowd as the second teen tries to get the jump on Keith. Shiro tries to push past two boys, desperate to get in there and stop the teen before he hurts Keith. Just as he’s managed to squeeze under their arms and look up at Keith, he realizes his effort was for naught.

 

Shiro cringes at the wet smack Keith’s fist makes when it connects with blondie’s nose.

 

“You broke my nose!” The blond howls, the words nasal and obscured, staggering back with his hands cupping his face and leaning against the press of bodies surrounding them.

 

But Keith’s already moved on, grabbing the other boy by the collar of his tank top. His voice is colder than ice when he says, “You call me that again and I’ll do more than that, Smith!”

 

The other boy sneers, showing his bloodied teeth off to Keith, “What? You don’t like hearing the truth, Orphan Annie?”

 

Several people in the crowd hiss at that, more than a few muttering, “Not cool, man.” Shiro’s not sure what’s going on or what that’s supposed to mean to Keith. But from the storm he sees gathering on Keith’s face, Shiro knows it’s bad.

 

So this time when he sees Keith bring his raised fist up, Shiro jumps into the fray. He grabs Keith’s wrist with one hand, stopping it from connecting. Keith’s wild eyes jump to him, a wicked bruise developing on his left cheek when he snarls, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

 

“Stopping you before you make this worse,” Shiro replies back immediately, shooting the other boy a hard look when he notices him scrambling up to his feet. Keith notices the movement at the same time, and immediately jerks forward, fighting Shiro’s grip. _He’s not going to stop until he’s beat this guy up_ , Shiro realizes. He needs to get Keith away from this guy.

 

Using his grip on Keith’s hand, Shiro yanks Keith against him and bodily pulls him away. Keith fights and struggles like an angry cat, snarling “You better watch out Carlton” at the blond even as Shiro’s yelling at the crowd to make room.

 

But before they’re past the first ring, Keith’s shaking his grip off hatefully, spitting “Get off me” before shoving through the throng of people.

 

His shoulder knocks against Lance’s chest on the way out, making the taller teen snap, “Watch it!” before he’s skidding to a stop in front of Shiro. “You okay? He didn’t hit you, did he?”

 

Shiro shakes his head, watching Keith’s head disappear into the showers before turning to the rest of the crowd. The look he shoots them speaks volumes and has everyone meekly going back to their lockers. The troublemakers are standing sullenly by the bench, ignoring Shiro’s gaze.

 

He’s ready to go over to them and give them a piece of his mind when Lance’s worried, “What the hell were you thinking jumping in between Kogane and those clowns? You coulda gotten seriously hurt!” stops him.

 

Shiro opens his mouth to argue but Lance is already grabbing him by the arm and taking him back to his locker. “You _never_ get in between Keith and his target. He’ll kick anyone’s ass when he’s that mad. And this was one time he’d have ripped your head off too.”

 

“This time?” Shiro asks, brain going over the fight that’s just transpired. “Was it because of what that guy called him? Orphan Annie?”

 

Lance makes a disgusted expression but nods. “Yeah. His parents died a couple of years ago. No one talks about it, especially not Keith.”

 

Understanding blossoms in Shiro’s brain, gears clicking into place and whirring together. “Oh,” he murmurs under his breath, frowning to himself.

 

\--

 

Keith sits sullenly in the uncomfortable chair, arms crossed over his chest. Across from him, his uncle, the principal, sighs tiredly. “Keith...” the man starts, sweeping a hand across his balding head, “I thought we talked about this.”

 

He doesn’t say anything, pressing his lips together harder to keep a hundred different angry and rude retorts to himself. His uncle exhales wearily, stroking his moustache before trying again. “You can’t keep picking fights like this. If you keep this up you’re going to pick a fight with someone who is going to _insist_ I expel you for your bad beha-”

 

“They called me an orphan and said mom and dad abandoned me,” Keith spits out, unable to hold the poison under his tongue any longer. His uncle's eyes widen with something akin to shock, and Keith viciously thinks, _Yeah. That’s right_. “Carlton and Smith just can’t stand that someone like me is better than them at playing soccer.”

 

He clearly understands why so many people don’t like him. Keith’s more than aware of the rumors that follow him - _all_ of them. From the ones that claim he’s only in this prestigious private school due to nepotism, to the ones that claim he cheated on his entrance exams to gain his scholarship. Never mind the fact that he’s consistently performed excellently during his _entire_ academic career - in this stupid school _and_ before it.

 

 _It’s not my fault if these people can’t handle that I’m a problem their money and parent’s influence can’t take care of_.

 

His uncle rubs the back of his neck, sighing before he asks, “Any witnesses who can verify what you’re telling me?”

 

Keith shrugs, mind flashing to Shirogane’s stern expression when he’d grabbing Keith’s arm mid-punch. But he pushes the boy out of his mind. For all he knows, Shirogane might turn out to be like the others - not wanting to take the side of a poor orphan lest his soot rub off on their pristine white suits. Every time Keith has gotten in trouble, it’s been in a semi-public place with witnesses. Yet finding someone to corroborate his side of the story has been next to impossible.

 

 _God I hate these rich idiots_ , Keith seethes to himself while his uncle promises to look into the situation. “Send the other boys in as well. What did you say their names were?”

 

“Julius Carlton and David Smith.”

 

His uncle nods and gently waves him out. Keith eyes the porky man and wonders how someone so weak willed could be related to his mother, a fighter pilot who had a will of steel.

 

As he steps out of the office, Keith’s eyes meet Carlton and Smith’s gaze. Both of them look sullen and annoyed, bruises on their face and dried blood on their soccer uniforms. There’s a mulish edge to their expressions that tells Keith they believe themselves to be the victims rather than the perpetrators of a crime.

 

An ugly feeling writhes in his chest, throbbing in tandem with his racing heart as he coldly tells the receptionist, “He’s ready for these two to come in.”

 

\--

 

His fingers itch to press the bruise on his cheek. Keith’s been fighting the urge since he’d woken up and caught sight of it in the bathroom. If it’s not his cheek, Keith wants to poke the bandage covering his nose.

 

Remembering that, a itch suddenly develops under the tape and Keith wishes he’d punched Carlton harder. He exhales a short laugh through his nose, amused at the thought that if he’s miserable with his few bruises? Carlton and Smith must be in a greater world of pain.

 

 _Still wish I’d hit them harder_ , Keith decides, scanning a book back into the system before placing it in the returned pile. _If only Shirogane hadn’t stepped in_.

 

He’s a weird guy, that Shirogane. Keith’s heard nothing but good things about the crown prince - he’s smart, polite, friendly. He’s good at sports and even better at making friends. He sounds as fake as fake can be in Keith’s opinion because _no one_ can be as good and pure as Takashi Shirogane.

 

Keith’s always believed Shirogane’s ‘golden boy’ mask to be just that, a mask. He also firmly believes the guy is like all the other rich and influential boys attending this all-boys’ school, in the sense that Shirogane will leverage his parents influence to his own advantage - a thing he’d proven when he’d tried to charm his way out of those library fines.

 

The memory of that makes Keith smirk to himself. He doesn’t want to brag but he’d honestly consider that one of his finer moments. When he’d relayed the story to Pidge, his friend had laughed till she’d cried.

 

“You know what’d make it better?” Pidge had asked. “If you mailed the letter two days late. Let him sweat it out.”

 

It had been a genius idea, delightfully petty in a way that appealed to Keith. He’d only been sad that he thought he’d never get to know if he’d really managed to make Shirogane sweat because of the delayed notice. And then he’d heard about King Shirogane referencing the fine during his Parliament address and started laughing so hard his stomach had hurt.

 

“What’s so funny?” Startled, Keith’s eyes fly up to meet Shirogane’s shy gaze. _What the..._ he can’t help but think, wildly wondering if he’d just willed the boy to him just by thinking about him. Shirogane’s eyes widen, lips pursing in a low whistle, “That’s some shiner you got there.”

 

Like a cat whose tail just got stepped on, Keith pulls back. He snaps closed the book in his hand, planting it down on the returned pile with a hard smack. “The hell’re you doing here?”

 

“Just wanted to see how you were doing,” Shirogane says, gray eyes shining with concern. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

 

Keith rolls his eyes with great disdain, picking up the stack of books and transferring them to the large cart half-filled with books. “I did more damage to those two idiots than they did to me.”

 

As he begins to push the cart out from behind the checkout table, rolling it towards the bookshelves on the far end of the library, Shirogane falls into step with him.

 

Low-grade irritation begins to build at the base of his skull, worsening thanks to Shirogane’s worried tone, “That doesn’t answer my question though. They didn’t hurt you did they?”

 

“No,” Keith answers, crisp and cold. God, why won’t he go away already?

 

 _If I run the cart over his foot, will that make him go away_? Keith ponders this as Shirogane asks, “Did you break your nose? That looks bad.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Keith halts the cart in front of the classics section before angrily planting books in their place, “No. And it’s fine. It’s none of your business.”

 

He hopes the short and sharp answer coupled with his pointedly avoiding looking at the other teen will dissuade Shirogane, but no. The taller teen is silent for only half a minute, shuffling from foot to foot like a nervous puppy while Keith ignores him.

 

But apparently he doesn’t catch that message because he tries again, “So... you’re pretty good at sports.”

 

There’s no stopping the look he shoots Shirogane, right hand up on the shelf mid-way through putting _Pride & Prejudice _ back in its place. _Really_? Keith wordlessly asks, raising one eyebrow up slowly while Shirogane’s cheeks turn pink. The other teen shrugs helplessly, lips twisted in a weak smile.

 

Shaking his head, Keith grumbles, “Thanks.”

 

“No really! I mean it!” Shirogane presses on, picking one of the books off the cart and holding it out towards Keith. Keith eyes the book and its title, looking back up at Shirogane before taking the offered _War & Peace _ and sticking it on the shelf. Shirogane continues, obviously enthused that Keith’s playing along, “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

 

“I’ve been playing since I was a kid,” Keith admits reluctantly.

 

_Why won’t he go away?_

 

Shirogane’s face lights up, “Cool! Do you think you’re going to go pro? I bet you could if you join the team.”

 

Keith sneers at the mere idea. Like the rich boys on the soccer team are going to let him join. They already hate he shares a couple of classes with them. There’s no way they’d stand him coming part of the school team. There’s just too much bad blood between them at this point. But Shirogane doesn’t need to know any of that.

 

“No. Not interested in going pro.”

 

“Then what are you interested in?” the other teen asks, holding _Oliver Twist_ out.

 

 _What’s Shirogane’s angle,_ Keith wonders. _Maybe he’s going to try and talk to me about the fight. Convince me to go Uncle Randall and tell him I was the one who started the fight._ It’s plausible. Shirogane’s certainly not the first rich kid who thinks they can talk/convince Keith into accepting full responsibility for a fight.

 

In fact, the more Keith thinks about it, the more sure he is that’s what Shirogane’s going for. He’s trying to butter Keith up before making the request. That _has_ to be the reason behind this facade.

 

Turning sharply, Keith levels Shirogane with a hard look, “Drop the act.”

 

His harsh tone causes the prince’s eyes to widen slightly in alarm, “What?”

 

Keith takes a step forward, pitches his voice low when he says, “I’ve got no idea what you’re trying to pull here, but I’m not here for it. If you want me to go to the principal and tell him I started the fight just so that Smith and Carleton can go scott free? You’ve got another thing coming.”

 

 _Oliver Twist_ hangs between them, forgotten, as Shirogane gapes at him. Keith feels like this is the most human he’s ever seen the prince. “I wasn’t going to ask that! I’d never do that!”

 

Snatching the book out of Shirogane’s hand, Keith asks, “Then what are you doing here? Why do you care?”

 

“I can’t care?”

 

There’s something wounded in Shirogane’s voice and it sets Keith’s teeth on edge. It turns his voice to ice when he answers, “Not when you didn’t even know I existed before last week.” Keith shoves the book into place, intuition flashing and relaying a message straight to his tongue before his brain could process it, “Just because you found out my life story doesn’t mean you get to fucking pity me. That doesn’t mean you’ve got _any_ reason to talk to me.”

 

The venom in his tone has Shirogane taking a step back. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith sees his mouth moving, struggling to formulate words. “I don’t... I-”

 

Fire burning in his lungs, utterly frustrated by Shirogane’s very existence, Keith turns to face the other teen and snarls, “Just _leave me alone_!”

 

Gray eyes blink owlishly at him, slow, startled, and ultimately, hurt. Shirogane continues to stand there, staring at him even after Keith pushes the cart away to a different part of the library. Because Shirogane doesn’t follow, Keith assumes that’s the end of it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy season 5 day release day! In that honor, have a longer-than-planned chapter!
> 
> Also please enjoy the beautiful commission Foxkunkun did for the soccer field scene! That's one scene that I'm still so fond of lmao I'm sorry Shiro but also, not sorry.
> 
> Small warning in this chapter: An OC-character uses a slur (tr*nny) to refer to Pidge.

Sure he’d told Shirogane he’s got no plans to go pro with soccer, but that doesn’t mean it’s not his sport of choice. Keith tends to wait for the soccer team to wrap up before putting his kit on, grabbing his old soccer ball, and heading onto the field to work most of his extra energy off.

 

It’s long after classes have let out and the athletic clubs are done for the day. There are very few people left on campus to interrupt him. The coach’s assistant, will pass by, observe Keith kicking the ball around, and walk by, reminding Keith not to overdo it. Sometimes the coach will pass by and ask, “Sure you won’t join the team?” and Keith will decline for the nth time.

 

After the instructors, his most frequent visitor is Pidge, who shows up to watch him play but that’s only when the robotics club isn’t meeting, which is few and far between. Occasionally Hunk will show up as well but every time he’s been more interested in talking with Pidge than watching him play. Once Hunk had shown up with a tall, lanky boy with him. That guy had glared at him for a solid hour for some reason. Keith had ignored him and kept bouncing the ball from one foot to the other.

 

And that was the complete list of people who approached him when he was practicing on his own.

 

But that was about to change.

 

“Doing some extra practice?” The query directed his way from a too familiar voice makes his kick go wild, soccer ball pinging off the side pole as Keith whips around to stare incredulously at Shirogane’s grinning face.  

 

Shirogane’s rolling up his shirt sleeves as he asks, “Mind if I join you? I need some practice being the goalkeeper.”

 

Keith stares slack jawed at Shirogane, watching him jog to the sideline to catch the ball that’s rolled to a stop a couple of inches the wrong side of the white line. His hands move to catch the ball when it’s tossed his way, instinct overriding his shock.

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Keith finally asks as Shirogane clips his fringe back.

 

He stares with utmost confusion as Shirogane pulls on a pair of dark goalie gloves, slapping his palms together with a grin. “Being goalie. Coach told me I needed to get better or he’s going to lower my grade.”

 

That sounds like biggest pile of bullshit Keith’s ever heard. Coach has _never_ said anything like that to _any_ of the students for _any_ sport. Including Ali from last year, who was _beyond_ abysmal at baseball. The guy hadn’t even managed to _bunt_ the ball when soft tossed the ball from 6 feet away! But Coach had still sighed and given him a passing grade anyways.

 

Irritation floods him increasingly the longer he looks at Shirogane’s eager, pretty face. Keith had thought he’d dealt with this. That after last time, Shirogane would leave him alone. _What the hell do I have to do to get him to leave me alone?_

 

As his hands squeeze the ball he’s clutching, an idea pops up in his head. Keith eyes the ball, then glances up at Shirogane, who cheerfully tells him, “Let’s see how good you are.” He smirks. If Shirogane wants to play goalie so bad, Keith is going to oblige him.

 

\--

 

After his utterly abysmal attempt to strike a friendship with Keith in the library, Shiro contemplates giving up. He goes home feeling utterly dejected. Shiro does his homework, sits down to dinner with his parents, and is apparently quiet enough to make his mother worriedly ask what is wrong.

 

At the end of his explanation, which is a summary of all his terrible Keith interactions, his mom hums thoughtfully. “Why do you want to be friends with him?”

 

Shiro opens his mouth to answer and come up blank. He frowns. “I don’t know...I guess... because he’s never treated me differently? And there’s something about him...”

 

“You sure you don’t pity him?” His dad interrupts, frowning faintly.

 

Shiro shakes his head immediately, certain of at least that. There’s nothing about Keith that makes him pity the other teen. Rather, what Shiro feels towards Keith is closer to the opposite end of that spectrum; he admires the hell out of Keith and his straightforward attitude. He says as much.

 

“Maybe you just need to try harder to make him see you want to be his friend. Just because you started off on the wrong foot doesn’t mean it has to stay that way.”

 

Figuring he had nothing else to lose, Shiro decides to follow his dad’s advice because he _does_ want to be friends with Keith. There’s an indescribable magnetism to him that’s deeply attractive to Shiro. Something about his gaze and how it seems to see right through Shiro while pinning him in place. There’s also a certain realness to him that Shiro has found generally lacking in the rest of the student body. And Shiro finds himself craving that honesty, despite how hard it is to swallow.

 

It’s why he finds himself asking Lance for more details about Keith, waving his warnings aside. “Whatever, it’s your funeral,” Lance sighs before sticking a french fry between his lips. “What do you want to know?”

 

“Everything you know.”

 

Most of Lance’s information, scant as it is in the first place, is useless. Shiro’s not sure what to do with the information that Keith had once accidentally spilled some milk on Lance’s shoes and called him “Lincoln” while apologizing. But there’s one detail that Shiro latches onto.

 

“He hangs out on the soccer field after the team is done with practice. Plays on his own. Kicks the ball around and stuff.” Lance shrugs, making room for Hunk to join their table. “I guess you could try talking to him then.”

 

It’s a decent suggestion and Shiro takes him up on it. Admittedly, he basically ambushing Keith and not giving him a chance to refuse his offer to be goalie. Shiro’s wonders if Keith knows he’s lying through his teeth about coach.

 

 _He knows_ , Shiro realizes as he tapes the gloves shut, seeing puzzlement turning into annoyance on the other teens face. Any second now Keith’s going to open his mouth and tell him he’s making shit up and tell Shiro to take a hike. Then Shiro’s going to try and cajole Keith into practicing with him.

 

But Keith’s irritation vanishes, replaced with a sharp smirk that fills Shiro with a small amount of dread.

 

“If that’s what you want,” Keith tells him, saccharine sweet as he plants the ball down and takes a couple of steps back.

 

Shiro readies himself, ready to fall either side of the net as Keith begins his run up. Eyes on the ball, Shiro tries to get a read on which way the ball will go. Left or right, Shiro’s got no way of knowing.

 

He’s shocked when the ball comes flying straight at him, smacking against his collarbone as he neatly catches with both hands. Shiro shoots Keith an odd look before tossing the ball back. Keith makes an annoyed expression but catches the ball, plants it down and begins his run up again.

 

They fall into that pattern easy enough - Keith kicks the ball his way, Shiro catches it and  tosses it back. What’s peculiar about the whole activity is how the ball is consistently aimed _at_ him rather than _away_ from him. _He’s not trying to actually hit me is he_ ? Shiro ponders worriedly when a ball flies several inches over his head and Keith clicks his tongue angrily. _Shit... I think he_ is _._

 

 _“_ You know the whole point is to score a goal, right? Not aim for the goalie?” Shiro can’t help but tease Keith, even as the spot where the last ball had connected burns. His hand comes up to rub his pec, faintly hoping the hit won’t leave a bruise.

 

Keith’s answer is a mocking smile. “Really? I didn’t know that _at all_.”

 

Huffing a laugh, Shiro tosses the ball back to Keith. The sun is well on its way to setting, yawning behind thin stripes of dense clouds, but it brings little improvement to the temperature. While the sun is no longer beating down on them, it is still fairly humid.

 

Shiro’d been lightly sweating before stepping onto the field but after almost thirty or so minutes of dodging soccer balls aimed his way and chasing after wayward balls? He’s sweating through his t-shirt. And Keith, who has been doing run-ups at full tilt and power, is worse off than he is.

 

His loose shirt is clinging to his body, flapping when Keith tugs on the collar with a groan. As Shiro straightens, sending the ball rolling to Keith with a gentle kick, he sees Keith gather his hair up in his hands. He pulls a hair tie out of his shorts, tying his hair back before using his foot to guide the ball to the center of penalty arc.

 

With his hair pulled up, Keith’s sharp beauty is accentuated. Objectively speaking, he’s a good looking guy; Shiro will readily admit this. But there’s something about him in this moment, where he’s got his hair tied and he’s wiping his sweaty face with his shirt collar, that makes Shiro freeze. Specifically, it’s the sight of the dip in his waist that’s revealed that makes Shiro pause.

 

His mouth goes a little dry, blinking in surprised wonder when Keith groans, “It’s too hot” and whips his shirt off. Shiro remains frozen as he studies the shorter teen’s physique. He’s more built than Shiro thought he’d be. Keith looks smaller in his uniform, more lanky than anything else. Probably because his blazer was a size too big for him? His shirt too?

 

 _He needs to wear stuff that actually fits instead of hiding that body_ , his brain stupidly chimes in.

 

Shiro’s still trying to figure out why he’s never _really_ noticed Keith’s psychique when something fast and heavy smacks him in the middle of his face.

 

\--

 

Keith feels his jaw drop as soon as the ball hits Shirogane in the nose. Panic floods him when he sees Shirogane go down on his knees, hands cupping his face, a couple of drops of blood already dripping into the ground.

 

He’s racing forward immediately, yelling, “You _idiot!_ Why didn’t you duck!”

 

He genuinely can’t believe he’s _actually_ managed to hit Shirogane in his pretty nose with the ball. Sure Keith’d been _aiming for that_ but he didn’t think he’d _actually_ manage to do it! Honestly, what kind of an idiot just _stands there_ as a ball comes flying at their face?

 

It takes an eternity to get from the penalty arc to the goal area. A million different scenarios play out in Keith’s head. His uncle finally expels him. He gets arrested and tried for hurting the crown prince. Shiro makes the rest of his school life a veritable hell on Earth all because Keith let his pettiness get the better of him.

 

By the time he skids to a stop next to the other teen, Keith’s a nervous mess. “I’m so sorry! Here, let me see.” He pulls Shirogane’s hands away, wincing when he sees a large cut across the teen’s nose. The area surrounding the cut is already starting to swell. Blood drips down Shirogane’s mouth and chin as Keith mumbles, “Okay. Okay, let’s get you to the nurse.”

 

How’d that happen? Getting hit in the face typically doesn’t leave a cut that bad. Keith’s eyes drop down to the soccer ball resting next to them and notices a torn strip hanging off the side. He can’t help but wince, unable to stop himself from imagining how the impact must have felt when that strip snapped against delicate skin.

 

“This hurts less than I always thought it would,” Shirogane says, blinking dazedly at Keith as he ducks to pick his shirt up.

 

 

 “You’ve thought about how much it’d hurt if you broke your nose? This is going to stink but it’s all I’ve got,” Keith apologizes as he tries to staunch the flow of blood using his shirt.

 

Shirogane’s gloved hand presses against his hand, gentling the pressure Keith’s applying against his nose, “‘ve smelled worse. S’okay.” There’s a growing nasal quality to the taller teen’s voice that makes Keith hurriedly rush him towards the infirmary, hoping and praying the nurse is still in.

 

Luckily, she is. She is quick to guide Shirogane to a stool, peeling Keith’s sweaty shirt back to take a look at the damage. “How’d this happen?” She asks, thumbs lightly testing the bruise darkening around Shirogane’s nose.

 

Keith can’t help but hold his breath, eyes locked on Shirogane. If he wants, Shirogane can, no pun intended, royally screw him over. He can say that Keith maliciously aimed the ball in his face, that he meant to hurt him. There’ll be no saving Keith if Shirogane’s the one he’s going up against.

 

Shirogane blinks up at the ceiling, wincing when the nurse touches the cut on his nose, “Got hit trying to catch the ball. I dove but was too slow and the ball just...whacked me in the face.”

 

Disbelief floods Keith immediately. He stands there staring at Shirogane, wondering, _what the hell?_

 

The sentiment continues to echo in him after the nurse shoos him out, gently shoving his bloodied, sweaty shirt into his hands before pushing him out the door. “I’ll take it from here. You can go now.”

 

But Keith can’t go. He feels terribly responsible for how he’s hurt Shirogane. Keith wrings his dirty shirt in his hands, peeking through the small glass windows inside the room. All he manages to see, before the nurse pulls a stiff curtain forward around the cubicle, is Shirogane wincing as the nurse pushes a hypodermic needle in next to his cut.

 

Once Shirogane is cut from his sight, Keith unthinkingly puts his shirt back on and takes to pacing the hallway. He seen more than a few guys break their noses and all of them wind up with a busted nose and a scar. The scar tends to fade over time. But the nose? That tends to require surgery. And given that he’s the perpetrator, Keith will have to pay for that.

 

He’s stand in front of the closed infirmary doors, panicking about where and how he’s going to get enough money together on his own to pay for the crown prince’s surgery, when he sees two figures in dark suits briskly walking down the hall, a man and a woman.

 

Keith wonders if they’re parents but decides in the next split second that they can’t be. The way they hold themselves, their gait, and the practiced manner in which their eyes sweep around them all scream ‘security’ at Keith. When the woman pauses to peek into a classroom, her blazer opens just enough for Keith to catch sight of a holster.

 

The man walks on, eyes ticking over to Keith finally. His gaze lingers for a few seconds before ticking over to the infirmary sign. That’s when it clicks for him. They’re probably Shirogane’s bodyguards or something similar. “Over here Joan.” the man says, taking long steps over to him. Keith tries not to feel intimidated when the man asks him, “Is the prince in there?”

 

Keith nods dumbly, hoping he won’t be asked anything more than that. His hope is fulfilled when the suit and Joan push the door open, asking, “Your Highness?”

 

“Mark?” Shirogane’s voice floats through the open door to Keith. “What’re you doing here?”

 

“That should be our question, Shiro,” the lady answers. “We got worried when you didn’t show up on time. What happened to you?”

 

“Got hit in the face with a ball.”

 

“Was it the kid outside?”

 

Keith freezes at the hard tone in which the question is asked. It’s got an underlying ‘Is he the one who hurt you? Was it on purpose?’ edge to it that makes Keith’s heart trip over itself in panic. Sure he _had_ been aiming to hit Shirogane in the face because he’s been so frustrated with the way Shirogane’s been approaching him like some kind of pet project but...

 

 _I shouldn’t have done that in the first place_ , Keith realizes, clutching at his dirtied shirt. Even if people like Shirogane pissed him off and he’d resented the way Shirogane had stopped him during the fight and he’d hated being on the receiving end of _anyone's_ pity _and_ been ticked off that Shirogane had interrupted his private time on the field...he sure as shit hadn’t deserved to be hit in the face full force by a soccer ball.

 

The door opens further, Mark coming out first. He barely glances at Keith before walking away. Joan follows, her dark eyes contemplating him for a moment before asking, “Are you waiting for Shiro?”

 

Keith nods, struggling with his desire to peek into the white room and see Shirogane. “Is he going to be okay?”

 

“Yeah. Luckily it wasn’t a bad break. He’ll be fine in no time.” There’s a kindness in her eyes that soothes Keith, makes his tense shoulders relax. “You were worried about him, huh?”

 

Her question has his shoulders stiffening again, more with guilt this time. “I was the one who hit him with the ball.”

 

Keith’s soft admission makes her hum in understanding. He’s about to ask if they’ll be taking Shirogane to the hospital when the nurse’s stern instruction to go straight to his doctor has both him and Joan turning towards the door.

 

He can’t help but wince at the sight Shirogane makes with the giant white bandage taped to the center of his face. A deep purple-colored bruise peeks out from the edges of the bandage, causing Keith to wince. If it looks that bad at the corners, how bad is it _under_ the gauze and tape? At least the nurse has wiped all the blood off his face.

 

“Oh hey!” Shirogane blinks in surprise at him. “I thought you’d left.”

 

He shakes his head vehemently, swallowing his pride before peering straight up into Shirogane’s eyes with determination. “I’m sorry, Shirogane.” Keith is keenly aware of the way Joan’s eagle-sharp gaze is locked on them. It makes him stammer a little but he continues to hold Shirogane’s surprised gaze. “For everything. For snapping at you in the library. For the ball. I let my anger get the best of me. I shouldn’t have done that.”

 

Shirogane’s surprise peters away into a sheepish smile, one finger scratching at the corner of his mouth. “It’s okay. I was being a pushy asshole before. The ball was a mistake so... It’s okay. And call me Shiro.”

 

“Shiro...” Keith tries the nickname on for size, and finds he likes the way it rolls off his tongue. It’s easier than Shirogane’s full last name. “What about...” Keith gestures at his own nose with a finger. “Anything I can do to help? Pay for your fees or anything?”

 

Shiro’s laugh is loud and clear as a church bell ringing on a summer day, rolling over Keith with all the warmth of direct sunlight. It just as quickly turns into a hiss of pain, his fingers coming up to touch his nose. “‘Course not!” Shiro wheezes, waving a hand when Joan takes a concerned step towards him. “It was an accident. Don’t worry about it.”

 

From down the hall, Mark calls out, “We should get going. I told your parents and they’ll make sure the doctor’s waiting for you when we get back.”

 

Shiro shoots him a tiny smile and a shrug that says ‘duty calls’ before saying, “I’ll see you later.”

 

\--

 

Keith fully intends to do as Shiro had told him and not worry about him. But within an hour of the day starting, rumors start flying about Shiro’s absence. It’s not unusual for Shiro to miss a couple of school days here and there. But this time, his absence comes with rumors connected with his injury.

 

He dips a fry into a puddle of ketchup when the group behind him loudly theorize how Shiro could have gotten a broken nose. Keith’s not sure if he wants to die of shame or die laughing at all the crazy theories these people are sporting. He gives up and snorts quietly when one guy firmly insists he’s got an inside source in the castle who told him that Shiro broke his nose while avoiding a kidnapping attempt.

 

By his side, Pidge snorts as well. “Idiots.”

 

“Tell me about it. They’d shit themselves if they knew the truth.”

 

Keith’s words make Pidge’s gaze turn to him, large round glasses glinting in the light. “And you know the truth?”

 

After glancing around them to make sure no one’s within earshot, Keith leans towards his friend and murmurs, “I’m the one who did it.”

 

“No shit. _How_?”

 

“Ball to the face.” Keith quickly explains how Shiro had come to him on the soccer field the day before and how Keith had used the prince for target practice. By the time he’s done, Pidge is bent over the table wheezing with laughter. “It isn’t _that_ funny.”

 

Pidge straightens up, thumb rubbing under her glasses even as she shakes with giggles, “It _is_! I can’t believe you beaned him in the face just because you were pissed he wouldn’t leave you alone!”

 

“You know how much I hate it when people push me like that. And he was _seriously_ pushing my buttons. I’m not some... pity pet project for him to take under his wing just because he found out I’m an orphan.”

 

Humming, Pidge pushes her chair back on two legs. “Or maybe he just wants to get to know you.”

 

Keith snorts in disbelief, “None of these guys want to do that. They all think they’re better than me just because they come from rich families.”

 

Tipping her head to the side, Pidge eyes him. Her hazel eyes are bright as they lock onto Keith’s. “Shiro’s not like the others. He’s different. He’s _better_.”

 

“How do you know that?” Keith stuffs three fries in his mouth and asks, “You friends with him too?”

 

Pidge makes a face at his eating habits before answering, “No. But Hunk is. Him and his boyfriend are good friends with the prince. And you know Hunk. He’s got a really good sense about people.”

 

Keith can’t help but reluctantly agree with that. If there’s anyone who can spot a bullshitter at 10 yards it’s Hunk. He can’t help but wish he too had the ability to discern bullshitters from decent people.

 

“Hunk talks a lot about Shiro and just...” Pidge shrugs, picking up a pickle off her tray before popping it into her mouth. “Hunk would never hang out with an asshole. Shiro sounds like a regular guy. He just happens to be a prince.”

 

\--

 

Shiro returns to school two days later, the majority of his bruising cleared and a large scar stitched across the bridge of his nose. Keith sees him holding court by his locker, laughing at something someone says before reassuring them, “It looks worse than it feels, honest!”

 

Those words bring back the memory of a dazed Shiro telling him he’d imagined a broken nose would hurt more than it did, and it makes Keith snort. _What a weird guy_.

 

As he passes by the group, Shiro blinks and looks up, meeting Keith’s gaze by pure chance. Recognition lights up his eyes. Keith feels weirdly bashful when he smiles faintly at the prince and gives him a little wave before continuing onwards towards his locker.

 

Keith’s searching for his physics book when he hears sneakers squeak to a stop next to him, followed by a breathless, “Hi.”

 

Bag clutched between his knees and elbow deep inside his messy locker, Keith spares a quick glance at Shiro before nodding, “Hey.” It comes out more nonchalant than he means it to. So Keith clears his throat and tries again, “How you doing?”

 

“Good. Better.” Shiro smiles, pointing at his bag. “Need a hand?”

 

Nodding, Keith waits for Shiro to grab his tattered bag by its worn straps before digging deeper into his locker with an angry mutter. “Where the _fuck_ is that book...” Several slips of paper and a couple of scrunched up balls that used to be old assignments tumble out onto the floor.

 

“What’re you looking for? And when’s the last time you cleaned this up?” Shiro laughs, bending down to pick up a glossy aqua-colored pamphlet that’s floated down to the floor. “Holy shit! Is this from your freshman orientation?”

 

Keith glances over at the crumpled piece of paper Shiro’s folding open, amused wonder in his eyes. He checks out the year written on the front in stylish cursive before answering, “Nah. I was one of the students who helped during orientation. Ushering kids and their parents and shit. I guess I forgot to throw that away afterwards.”

 

“You do that a lot? Volunteer and stuff?” Shiro asks, carefully folding the pamphlet up before handing it back to Keith, who carelessly shoves it back into the depths of his locker.

 

There’s a gentle curiosity in Shiro’s voice that gives Keith pause and makes him give Shiro a contemplative look. He thinks about Pidge’s words, how Hunk is friends with this guy, and the way Shiro hadn’t blamed him for the ball. And Keith thinks, maybe it’s okay to let Shiro push at his boundaries a little.

 

The long pause, however, has Shiro’s good-humored smile faltering. He looks ready to apologize when Keith opts to answer, “Yeah. Gotta do what I can to earn some money.”

 

With a surprised blink, Shiro takes a tentative step closer and leans against the locker next to Keith’s. “Does it pay well?”

 

Pushing a couple of books out of the way, Keith shrugs, “More or less. Kinda depends on what you’re signing up for. Some stuff pays really well because no one wants to do it. Other stuff, like the library, not so much.”

 

“Cool,” Shiro offers lamely, straightening as Keith finally finds the slim physics workbook and gestures for his bag. “So uh, is it cool if I practice with you after school?”

 

Eyebrows quirking up, Keith smirks a little when he asks, “Or else Coach is going to give you a failing grade even though he’s _never_ done that?”

 

“Shit,” Shiro laughs and scrubs the back of his neck. “That was a shitty excuse huh?”

 

With a laugh of his own, Keith closes his locker shut, “The shittiest.” His smiles fades into a curious expression, head tilting when he asks, “Why?”

 

“Why what?”

 

“Why are you doing this?” Keith gestures between them. “Why are you being so chummy?”

 

His breath catches at the vulnerable way Shiro rubs the back of his short cropped hair and says, “Honestly? I just want to get to know you better.”

 

“Why?”

 

Keith’s not expecting an honest answer to his question. He knows his bluntness is something that makes a lot of people uncomfortable. He also knows that the way he values honesty and the truth above a lot of other values in this crowd pushes even more people away. Keith gets it. He’s learned to live with it like it’s another truth of the world. And he’s okay with it.

 

As such, he expects Shiro to fumble his answer or give a standard, vague, Hallmark card-esque answer. It’s going to be something pretty sounding but hollow, even if it’s meant in the best of intentions.

 

But what he gets instead is a hesitant but honest answer that leaves him staring at Shiro in surprise.

 

“I don’t know,” Shiro shakes his head, the faintest smile turning his lips up. “I just. I guess I really admire how honest you are. Plus the way you treated me when we met really made an impression on me. It made me curious about you. I kept wondering what kind of person you were. So I guess the answer is that.... I want to get to know you. On your terms.”

 

Feeling a little taken aback, Keith asks, “You want to get to know me because you’re curious about me?”

 

“Yeah. You’re not like a lot of people here,” Shiro nods at the crowd around them. “You’re different. Straightforward.” Keith ducks his head, bashful and unsure of what to say. “Sorry. Was that too weird?”

 

Keith shakes his head immediately, throwing his bag over his shoulder, “No. Well, kinda. Most people here don’t like me for the same reason.”

 

“Well, they’re idiots then.”

 

The quick ease with which Shiro throws that out has Keith muffling a laugh against his shoulder. He grins at the other teen, showing more teeth when Shiro smiles back at him.

 

“So....” Shiro draws the word out, expression turning hopeful. “Would it be cool if we practiced together?” Keith nods. Shiro’s expression breaks into a sunny grin, “Cool! I’ll see you then.”

 

\--

 

Keith’s not too pleased that Shiro shows up with his entourage in tow. But despite not saying anything, Shiro picks up on his displeasure and shoots Hunk and his boyfriend in the stands a quick look and says, “I could tell them to leave if you’re not okay with them staying.”

 

He glances over at the couple, who have their heads bent over a phone, sharing a pair of earbuds. Keith assumes they’re watching a video and shrugs. He’ll forget they’re there soon enough. And it soothes away the furrow on Shiro’s brow and the tiny wrinkle at the very top of the prince’s nose. Right above that dumb scar that somehow only serves to accentuate Shiro’s good looks.

 

As they warm up next to each other, Keith scowls at the astroturf and wonders how it’s possible to get whacked in the face with a ball and come out looking better than before. Is it some kind of beauty secret only royalty is privy to? Or is it simply a Shiro quality?

 

Either way, it makes him feel more than a little peevish. _It’s not fair_ , Keith thinks to himself as Shiro hops in place in front of the goal. “Ready?” He calls out. Shiro nods, clapping his hands together before readying himself.

 

This time, Keith actually tries to score. Shiro’s a decent goalie but Keith’s a better shooter. He grins viciously every time he gets the ball past Shiro, laughing out loud every time the ball flies against the net after brushing against Shiro’s fingers.

 

“God, you’re good,” Shiro groans as he straightens up, rubbing his chest clean before tossing the ball back. “You seriously _could_ go pro if you wanted.”

 

Keith shakes his head, raising his knee to stop the ball before tapping it down with his foot. He digs his cleats into the worn material, “I don’t like soccer _that_ much.”

 

“Shame. There’s not a lot of players who’ve got your kind of control.” It’s a careless compliment given without thought and it strikes Keith to the core. He lowers his head to hide his pleased smile, rolling the ball in place before looking up. Shiro’s already back in position, arms out to cover as much of the net as possible.

 

He half expects Shiro to push again but instead, he gestures at Keith to go for it. So Keith does. Shiro dives in front of the ball just in time, right hand causing the ball to go flying towards the stands. Where, Keith realizes, a few more people have gathered.

 

 _Isn’t that Carlton?_ Keith frowns to himself, already waving at Shiro to stay in place as he goes to collect the ball, which is close to where the five boys are talking. As he gets closer, Keith sees the angry expression both Hunk and his boyfriend are sporting while Carlton and his friends laugh.

 

“Kogane,” Carlton greets him with an ugly sneer.

 

“What the hell are you doing here Carlton?” Keith asks, ball hooked under his arm.

 

Carlton’s blue eyes sweep lazily over the stands, a deliberate and careless gesture that makes Keith’s hackles rise, “Not that it’s any of your business but I came here looking for Gunderson. We’re supposed to be working on an assignment together. Any idea where your tranny friend is?”

 

Red sweeps through him. The ball falls to the ground, forgotten as Keith takes a step forward, ready to kick Carlton’s ass to hell and back. But before he can put even one finger on the blond, Hunk is stepping in front of him with a warning. “Don’t, Keith! He’s not worth it.”

 

At the same time, Carlton lets out a pained wheeze. Hunk turns. Keith shoves his way past him and stares in surprise at the sight of Hunk’s lanky boyfriend kneeling by Carlton’s bent form. His body jumps to action when Carlton’s friends grab the other boy by the back of his hoodie and one punches him in the jaw.

 

The rest of the fight is a blur of fists and kicks and hurt that Keith knows he’s going to be feeling for days. One major difference between this fight and all the ones he’s been in before though? Is that he’s not alone outside the principal's office this time.

 

“That was a mean left,” Keith tells Hunk’s boyfriend, Lance, to break the silence.

 

The teen shoots him a surprised look past the cold soda can he’s holding against his right eye. “Thanks... I guess,” there’s a grudging reluctance there that Keith’s too tired to parse out. So instead he leans further to look at Hunk, who looks one wrong phrase away from crying.

 

 _Okaay...._ Keith decides against asking how Hunk’s doing. _Probably his first time being sent to the principal's office._ So he turns to his left, towards Shiro. Who is sitting casual as you please with his hands tucked into his soccer shorts, staring thoughtfully up at the ceiling.

 

Keith observes him for a moment before asking, “Something wrong?”

 

“Just trying to figure out why you guys were fighting,” Shiro answers immediately, rolling his head to look at Keith.

 

“You didn’t hear what he said?”

 

As he shakes his head, Shiro answers, “No. I came to stop you guys when I saw Lance throw that first punch. I was too far away to hear what he said.”

 

It’s hard to control his disgust remembering Carlton’s words. Keith’s upper lip curls in anger. “He was talking shit about Pidge.”

 

“Pidge... yea tall, Einstein hair, big glasses?” Shiro asks, frown tinted in confusion as he asks, “Why was he talking shit about him? Because he’s short for his age? That’s a shitty thing to be-”

 

“Her,” Keith sharply interrupts Shiro. “She might wear the boy’s uniform but shes _her_.”

 

And just like that, understanding blossoms on Shiro’s handsome face. “Is that why Carlton...That’s just...Does that happen often?”

 

“Not too often. Carlton’s just a freaking idiot who doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. He thinks just because his dad is a hot shot lawyer he can get away with more shit than other people.”

 

Anger, Keith thinks, is not an expression that looks good on Shiro’s face. It looks misplaced. With his shapely jawline, friendly smile, and pretty eyes, Shiro’s got a face meant for big smiles and happy looks. Not disgust, anger, or disdain.

 

“Well he’s not getting away with it this time,” Shiro states firmly, sitting up straighter, hands against his thighs. “We’re going to tell Mr. Randall the truth and make sure that Carlton pays. There’s got to be rules against hate speech right?”

 

Keith stares at Shiro and wonders how this guy is even real.

 

He’s spared from giving an answer when Pidge shows up, large orange backpack in hand and a disapproving expression on her face.

 

“What the hell did you do now?” She asks in complete and utter exasperation. “I heard you got into a fight with Carlton _again_ ? When the hell are you gonna learn, Keith? And Hunk!” The large teen jumps in surprise at being so suddenly addressed, “Since when do _you_ get into fights?”

 

Pidge scolds them each in turn, telling them they ought to know better and that it’s not worth picking fights with people who have a lower IQ than a sack of wet cement. And so on and so forth. But never once does Pidge ask _why_ they fought.

 

 _She already knows_. Keith realizes, staring as Pidge tiredly pinches the bridge of her nose, muttering, “This better not hurt our chances of entering the Nano-Robo contest.”

 

“No way!” Hunk wails immediately. “They can’t stop us from entering now! We’re this close to finishing Rover!”

 

Shiro waves a hand at the dark skinned boy. “I doubt Mr. Randall will do that. I’m sure once we tell him the whole story, he’s not going to punish us.”

 

“Much,” Lance mutters under his breath. Keith can’t help but huff in agreement, the side of his face aching thanks to that one hit one of Carlton’s sneaky friends managed to get in. He’s never been kneed in the face before and Keith would very much like to never ever be again.

 

The conversation falls dead to the floor when they hear the office door open. Carlton leads the trio walking out, looking thoroughly smug as he walks by them. Keith clenches his fists on top of his thighs, wanting to hit the other teen until he bleeds.

 

He starts when he feels a rough palm wrap around his wrist. Keith stares at Shiro, who is staring at him steadily. “He’s not worth it.”

 

Mouth going dry, Keith finds his anger bleeding away at the warm touch. He nods on autopilot, skin tingling as Shiro draws his hand back. From the doorway, his uncle sighs, “You four. Get in here.”

 

\--

 

“It’s not fair!” Lance complains, gesturing angrily as their group walks down the empty hallways. “We were just defending Pidge! How is it fair that we get punished along with those assholes?”

 

“Because fighting isn’t the answer when someone’s being an asshole.” Shiro reminds him yet again, causing both Lance and Keith to snort. “It _isn’t_.”

 

While Lance continues to rail against the injustice that their punishment is to participate in a tutoring program for three weeks, Shiro sidles closer to Keith. Keith notes the way he closes the distance between them, as well as the hesitance in his body language. “What?” He finally asks, growing weary of the way Shiro is clearly stopping himself from asking something.

 

“About Pidge. Are you two dating?”

 

With a snort, Keith answers, “No. Why would you think that?”

 

“Just the way you talked about her. It made me think...” Shiro raises one shoulder in a half shrug.

 

In front of them, Hunk is pulling Lance against his side while talking with Pidge, who is scrolling through her phone. Lance laughs and says something which makes Pidge scowl and punch him in the ribs, hard enough to make him yelp loudly. He whines and Pidge smirks.

 

Keith feels the embers of a long smothered fire still burning in the pit of his stomach as he recalls a time when Pidge had stopped smiling. He shakes his head, mostly to shake out the memory of Pidge showing up at his dorm with tears in her eyes and a busted backpack on her shoulders.

 

“She used to go to public school,” Keith finally shares in a low voice, trembling slightly. “She’s really, really smart and didn’t fit in with the rest of her class. When she started getting bullied, I asked my uncle if she could come here instead. The only thing she asked when she joined was if it would be okay for her to wear the guys uniform instead of girls. Some people gave her shit for it. Still do like you saw.”

 

Silence hangs between them. It’s neither comfortable, nor uncomfortable. It simply is. Like a break in between paragraphs. But it’s still long enough to make Keith look at Shiro, wondering what kind of expression he’s sporting.

 

Shiro is staring intently at the trio in front of them for a long moment. Lance has picked Pidge up, backpack and all, both of them laughing as he comically pretends she’s too heavy for him. Hunk is fretting loudly that they both are going to fall, causing the duo to laugh harder.

 

Keith sees the tiniest of half smiles being born on Shiro’s face and feels his heart lurch. “I’m glad.” Shiro finally says.

 

“Glad about what?” Keith asks, arrested by the way the Shiro’s profile is highlighted by the light pouring in from the window.

 

He finds himself thinking of thunderstorms and dark clouds heavy with rain when Shiro’s eyes meet his. The dark gray irises are soft as clouds but heavy with emotion when he says, “That Pidge has a friend like you to watch her back.”

 

Keith splutters, feeling heat claw its way up his throat and sink into his cheeks. And Shiro, the bastard, only laughs. Keith feels he’s well within his rights when he gives the other teen a shove before hurrying over to the trio.

 

 _Oh God, oh God, oh God_ . He panics to himself, stomach twisting itself into knots. _He’s the worst person to be developing a crush on._

 

Unfortunately for him, Shiro catches up quick enough, knocking his shoulder against Keith’s before stepping in line with him. Keith clears his throat before saying, “I uh. I should thank you too. For the way you stood up for Pidge.”

 

Shiro’s already shaking his head, “You don’t have to. It was the right thing to do. Plus, if my words can help make a difference then I’ll do it. Not to mention, if my parents find out about this they’ll be seriously pissed that I didn’t help, you know.”

 

That’s true. The king and queen have a pretty clear stance on LGBTA+ rights. No other leader in their history has pushed as hard or aggressively, or successfully, for equal rights for queer people than the present king and queen. It honestly makes Keith pretty proud to call them his country’s leaders.

 

And it’s not just for show either. They’ve led the successful implementation of marriage rights, easier adoption process for queer couples, higher wage rates, _and_ are presently working on convincing their Parliament to pass a bill recognizing individuals that are non-binary and offering that as an option on all standard forms, government and otherwise.

 

Point is, Keith can understand where Shiro is coming from. It makes sense for him to stand up for the same beliefs as his parents. And thanks to Shiro and Hunk’s testimony, Carlton is hopefully going to be expelled. The school’s zero tolerance for bullying or harassment towards LGBTA+ kids isn’t something that’s just for show. Carlton isn’t the first person who thought they could get away with being a bigot.

 

Daily life should be calmer for a while now. With Carlton gone, Keith expects he won’t be getting into a lot of fights. Unless some asshole decides he wants to take over, in which case Keith will def-

 

“I feel like I should apologize,” Shiro huffs, tugging on his blazer sleeve.

 

Pausing, Keith shoots Shiro a confused look, “What for?”

 

He avoids meeting Keith’s eyes initially before glancing up. Their eyes meet for a second before Shiro’s glancing over his shoulder. It’s not enough to decipher the complicated emotions Keith sees there.

 

Shiro exhales and makes a pained face before explaining, “I kinda feel like I keep sticking my foot in my mouth when I’m around you. That I keep messing up and pissing you off.”

 

He’s ready to ask why Shiro thinks so but his brain flashes the answer to him before the question comes out. Keith remembers their different encounters and wryly thinks, _Maybe he’s got a point_.

 

“Maybe you did before, but not today.” Keith gently knocks his shoulder against Shiro’s as they finally step out of the building. “Just don’t try so hard, Your Majesty.”

 

“Shiro,” the other teen reminds him with gentle exasperation. Keith laughs softly at the look, heart clenching at the smile he earns. His brain groans because he shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t start falling for Shiro, but it’s hard not to when Shiro’s looking at him the way he is.

 

“Finally!” Pidges exclamation makes them both turn. “What took you guys so long?” Lance, Hunk and Pidge are waiting for them by the flagpole, turning as one when they see the pair exit the building. “You want to go for pizza? Hunk’s got some deal coupons that need to be used.”

 

Exchanging a look, Keith shrugs and Shiro grins, “Why not. My car should be here any minute, we can go together.”

 

“Shotgun!” Lance immediately declares, causing Shiro to laugh.

 

“You can’t shotgun. Joan is _always_ in the front seat. Security protocols.”

 

“Well that sucks.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally remembered to share that my posting schedule is every two weeks!

If  getting hit in the face by the soccer ball was the turning point in his relationship with Keith, then stepping in and standing up for Pidge was probably the thing that put Shiro solidly in Keith's good books. 

 

Now Keith doesn’t just wave at him from afar. No, now he comes up to Shiro and greets him properly, holding a fist out for Shiro to bump. Now Keith waits for him on the field after school, helping him stretch and giving Shiro tips on how to improve.

 

They sit side by side at lunch, elbows jostling and thighs pressing together as they steal food from each other’s trays. Shiro tries to impress Keith with his academic prowess and gets smirked at because Keith is ranked higher than him. He skids up to Keith in the hallway and begs to borrow his Chemistry book because Shiro forgot his at home. He teases Keith about his noodle arms and winds up struggling on the bench without a proper spotter. Shiro slaps his back after seeing Keith’s test scores and asks, “How can you call me a nerd when you’re scoring 97’s?”

 

All in all, it’s starting to feel like true friendship.

 

At least it would if it weren’t for the way his heart keeps doing this stupid painful clench whenever he sees Keith being so purely  _ Keith _ .

 

Shiro’s never thought about his sexuality before, mostly because he’s never had to. He’s liked and dated a couple of girls in the past, and therefore assumed he was straight. But now, there’s Keith. Who is making Shiro question so many things about himself. 

 

It  _ has _ to be a crush because what he feels when he sees Keith feels just as intense as his previous crushes.  _ No,  _ Shiro corrects himself as he watches Pidge and Keith argue over whether not aliens are real _ , it’s more than that. It’s a lot stronger than any of my old crushes _ . And that particular realization is one hell of a kick in the nuts. 

 

Now that he’s actually friends with Keith, Shiro’s learned a lot about him. For example, Keith is a  _ huge _ conspiracy theory fan (as is Pidge). He firmly believes aliens are out there and has promised to prove that to Shiro one day (apparently there’s a PowerPoint presentation involved).  Keith also takes his studies very seriously. He makes sure all his assignments and homework are done well before time, something he frequently chides Lance about. Which ticks Lance off, leading to one petty argument after another. Which leads Shiro to realize that Keith’s generally not one for picking fights unless his friends have been insulted or someone is insulting his skills. 

 

He’s not half as serious as he looks either. Rather, Keith is prone to thinking utterly mundane and silly thoughts with the most straight-laced expression. Shiro is presently in the middle of an observational study to test his hypothesis that the more broody/moody Keith looks, the more mundane his thoughts are.  So far, he’s caught Keith looking epicly broody three times. And during these times, he’d been thinking about what to have for dinner, why banana gum doesn’t taste like actual bananas, and why the song ‘Cotton-Eyed Joe’ is called that.

 

Keith is also a bit of a cat magnet. They’ve got a cat who lives on campus and is considered a bit of an unofficial mascot. She’s apparently been around for years and no one has the heart to take her away. She’s got a mean, prickly personality who allows very, _ very  _ few people to pet her. And yet she follows Keith around like a puppy, gray tail high in the air, after spotting him. She’s also awarded Keith the honor of petting her kittens, something Keith takes genuine pride in. 

 

Perhaps the most hilarious thing Shiro has learned so far is that Keith wasn’t even aware of Lance’s existence prior to the fight, much less that he and Lance were rivals. Shiro can’t help but snicker at the memory of Keith’s confused frown while Lance rambled on about their one-sided rivalry.

 

“What’s so funny?” Lance asks, plopping down next to him on the bench.

 

Grinning, Shiro answers, “Just remembering the time you told Keith about your rivalry.”

 

Lane groans theatrically, throwing his head back, “I can’t  _ believe _ he didn’t know about that! He’s  _ such _ a space case!”

 

That’s not  _ wholly _ accurate if someone was to ask Shiro. He tilts his head, frowning faintly while watching Keith try to teach Pidge how to dribble the ball. “I dunno... isn’t he more of a grumpy awkward hedgehog?”

 

“I will literally pay you to never  _ ever _ make that comparison again.”

 

Shiro shoots Lance a puzzled look, “Why not? I think it’s pretty accurate.”

 

“Because a hedgehog is too cute. He might be a porcupine or some shit but  _ not _ a hedgehog.” 

 

Snorting and shaking his head, Shiro goes back to studying Keith, who is out on the field with Pidge. It’s become his new favorite hobby as it were. Keith is such an interesting set of contradictions while being one of the most honest people Shiro knows. In the simplest of terms, he’s a good guy. He stands up for what he believes in and isn’t scared to fight for the same.  It’s admirable. Which brings him back to his mild dilemma that he may be falling for Keith. It’s a thought that makes his insides squirm. Butterflies flutter and brush against his ribs, wanting to be let out. Shiro swallows them down and wonders what to do. 

 

On the field, Keith is shaking his head as he helps Pidge to her feet. He doesn’t laugh over the fact that she’d just tripped trying to kick the ball and instead points something out that makes her frown and try again. This time, her kick sends the white ball flying into the top right corner of the net.  Pidge whoops and jumps on Keith’s back, clinging to him like a monkey even as he falls forward on his knees, yelping his surprise. Shiro finds himself smiling before he knows it.

 

“You like him, don't you?” 

 

Lance’s question immediately has the butterflies in his stomach multiplying, wings flapping madly in beat with his racing heart. “What did you say?” Shiro asks in a shocked wheeze.

 

Nodding towards the pair, who are now rolling around shoving handfuls of fake grass down each other’s shirts, Lance asks, “Keith. You like him right?”

 

“What makes you think that?”

 

The smile Lance gives him fills Shiro with equal parts relief and nervousness, “Come on man. This is me. We’ve been friends since middle school. I’ve seen you fall for people before.” 

 

_ Do I have some kind of sign or something when that happens _ ? Shiro wonders, nervously scratching his head as he looks away from Lance’s piercing gaze. 

 

“I still think he’s an ass and I’ve got no idea what you see in him but...” he catches Lance shrug lightly out of the corner of his eye. “He’s a decent guy.”

 

That’s high praise coming from Lance. On the field, Hunk has joined the pair. Keith is trying to get Hunk to juggle the ball from foot to foot, standing next to him as he coaches him through the motions. Pidge stands in front of them, holding the ball on her head, watching. 

 

She tosses Hunk the ball soon enough, encouraging him as he slowly bounces the ball from one raised knee to the other. He manages to do it a few times, beaming at Keith as he clearly says, “I did it!” Shiro feels his heart swell with emotion when Keith laughs and pats Hunk’s back.

 

“Yeah,” he sighs, planting his elbow on his thigh so he can prop his chin in his palm. 

 

Lance makes a gagging noise, “ _ Jesus _ , you’ve already got it so bad for him.”

 

Worry and curiosity clash together, forcing him to ask, “It’s not  _ that _ obvious is it?”

 

“Just to me. And Hunk. He’s the one who noticed first.” A broad teasing grin spreads across Lance’s face, “Don’t worry. I don’t think your lover boy’s noticed yet. Space case, remember? He’s not the best at noticing stuff like this. Look at me. We were rivals for a whole year and he never knew.”

 

Shiro snorts into his hand, body shaking as he laughs, “Yeah, that was  _ definitely _ news to him when you told him that.” 

 

Gesturing at Shiro with a beseeching palm, Lance replies, “Right? Like how do you  _ miss _ something like that? But this guy did! So I doubt he’s noticed you’re making goo-goo eyes at him.”

 

Shiro splutters at his friend. “I’m not! That’s-”

 

“Don’t worry.” Lance’s grin widens as he slaps Shiro’s back hard enough to nearly push him off the bench. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

 

\--

 

Scooping the lazily-rolling ball into his arms, Shiro turns to face Keith, who is still on the ground after his celebratory “I-scored-a-goal-so-I’m-going-to-throw-myself-to-the-floor-in-celebration” throw down. “You dead?” Shiro asks jokingly.

 

He sees Keith’s body shake with the force of his laugh before nimbly jumping up to his feet, obviously done celebrating. But instead of looking eager to continue, Keith is worriedly staring at his right leg. 

 

Shiro observes the way Keith curls his leg and grabs his calf with one hand, stretching his thigh out. He holds the pose for a few seconds before planting his heel into the ground and bends forward, hands pressing into his thighs as he stretches his leg out some more.

 

Shiro walks over to the other teen, trying not to think about the pale skin revealed to him when Keith bends forward a little more, forehead almost touching his thigh, showing off the nape of his neck to Shiro’s hungry gaze.  There’s several strands of hair clinging to Keith’s neck, wet with sweat. They’re causing Shiro’s fingers to itch with the desire to pluck each strand with his fingertips and sweep them back into Keith’s hair. 

 

Instead, he clutches the ball a little tighter and asks, “Did you pull a muscle?”  Keith makes a face that’s answer enough. Shiro plants the ball down on the ground. “I’ll help you do some stretches. Where’s it hurt?"

 

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Shiro’s dropping to his knees and pressing his gloved hands to the spot Keith’s pointed at and rubbing at the muscles. As soon as he’s processed this, an embarrassed flush blooms in the center of his cheeks. But Shiro keeps his eyes focused on Keith’s thigh.

 

A mistake.

 

_ Shit shit shit _ , Shiro sweats, eyes jerking around for something safe to stare at. 

 

There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. If he looks up, he’ll be showing Keith his blush _ and _ be looking up at his handsome face. Straight in front of him is Keith’s crotch and muscled thigh, most of which is visible because of the soccer shorts. And if he looks below, Shiro gets to stare at Keith’s shapely calves.

 

Between the three choices, Shiro figures the safest option is to stare at his own hands on Keith’s thigh. Sure the obvious answer would be to look down but it’d look weird if he stares down when trying to warm his muscles up.

 

Keith is quiet as Shiro rubs his thigh down, gently massaging the spot Keith had pointed at. “I think that’s good.” Keith eventually says, running a hand down his thigh before repeating the standing quad stretch.

 

“We should cool down,” Shiro suggests, clearing his throat when he realizes how scratchy his voice sounds. “It’s getting late.”

 

Glancing up at the sky, still holding his stretch, Keith sighs, “Okay.”

 

The next five or so minutes are the best and worst part of Shiro’s day. Because Keith takes his sweet time going through a series of stretches that show off how flexible he is. 

 

Shiro forgets to pay attention to his own posture frequently, getting caught up in the sharp lines Keith’s body makes as he does a side split and then bends forward until the top of his head is touching the ground. He’s never sure where to look when Keith does that stretch - his legs or his ass. 

 

This is followed by a quick downward dog, butterfly stretch, hamstring stretching, etc etc. Routine stuff for them by this point. Shiro’s regretfully thinking about how it’s the weekend and he won’t get to see and talk with Keith for two whole days, when Keith groans, “Shiro, could you help me out here? I think I tweaked something bad.”

 

Looking up, Shiro opens his mouth to ask what he can help with and nearly swallows his tongue. Keith’s left leg is pressed straight against the ground. His right leg is raised straight up at a 90-degree angle to the floor, his shoulders raised as he holds his cleat with both hands. Keith’s face is contorted into an expression of pained concentration, leg trembling with effort. 

 

There’s a whimper hiding right under his teeth when Keith bites into his bottom lip, half sucking it into his mouth. “How can I help?” Shiro hears himself asking from a great distance.

 

Keith nods up at his leg, “Need you to help me stretch. You know how to?”

 

Shiro nods dumbly, remembering all the different times the coach or a trainer has helped him do some blast stretches for his legs, “Thighs and hamstring, right?” He asks as he gets to his feet, moving to stand next to Keith’s hips. “I just need to push in?”

 

As Keith nods, Shiro sends a quick prayer up to whoever is listening that he doesn’t pop a boner being this close in proximity to Keith’s crotch and drops to his knees on top of Keith’s left knee. As Shiro hesitantly presses his bent calf high on top of Keith’s left thigh, the other teen drops his hands down on top of his chest and exhales deeply. 

 

“Don’t go easy on me,” Keith tells him, violet eyes staring up at the clouds above as Shiro’s hand tentatively wraps around Keith’s kneecap. He’s so glad he took his gloves off before they started stretching. “I’ll tell you when you need to stop.”

 

Gulping, Shiro nods and uses his other hand to take firm hold of Keith’s foot. “Ready?” 

 

Keith nods, eyes fluttering shut as Shiro presses his body forward against Keith’s leg, pushing it inward. Slowly at first, keeping a close eye on Keith’s expression to make sure he’s not pushing too hard. It doesn’t take long for Keith to grunt out, “Harder.”

 

So Shiro presses in harder, panicking internally as his crotch is pressed almost snugly against Keith’s. And then Keith has to go and say, “Could you pulse a little. A little bit more.  _ That’s  _ it.” His sigh has Shiro’s brain free falling into the gutter, unable to resist the urge anymore. He commits the sight and feeling of Keith under him to memory, already guiltily thinking about how he’s going to go home and jerk off to this memory.

 

He’ll lie back on his bed and remember how soft Keith’s skin is. Shiro will sigh, remembering how hard Keith’s thighs are, nothing but lean muscle. He’ll close his eyes at the memory of the grunts Keith lets out when he pushes too hard. Shiro will groan to himself, eyes closing as he thinks about the gentle sighs that had slipped past Keith’s lips, unbidden but pleased, when Shiro applies the right amount of pressure.

 

_ That  _ eventual scenario has his dick twitching in his shorts. Shiro frantically tries to think of something else. And all he can think of in the moment, is the pi sequence. He latches onto it with both metaphorical hands, and starts counting. 

 

_ 3.14159...  _ Shiro frowns deeply, pausing mid-way through a pulse to stare at Keith’s hands resting palm down on his chest.  _ What comes after that? Three? Or was it five... _

 

He’s still trying to figure that out when Keith hisses, “Stop, stop! That’s good.” Shiro jerks slightly, pulling off Keith. The heady, pleased groan Keith lets out as Shiro’s hands guide his leg down to the ground sticks to the taller teen’s consciousness.

 

“Do you want to stretch the other leg too?” Shiro asks, praying Keith will say yes but also hoping he’ll say no. 

 

Relief and disappointment flood him when Keith waves a tired hand at him, “Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”

 

“Any time.”

 

\--

 

Keith’s never considered himself a masochist, but he’s starting to think that  _ maybe _ he’s got some S&M tendencies in him. So many of his latest interactions with Shiro involve pushing the boundaries of physical contact in a way that steal Keith’s breath away. Like last week when he’d gotten Shiro to help him stretch his leg out.

 

Remembering that has Keith’s core warming up, stomach clenching with desire. Shiro’s hands had felt so good against his skin. Keith takes a few seconds to close his eyes and imagine a different scenario, one that had occurred to him in a dream. Rather than lying out in the middle of a field, they’d been naked and lying on his dorm bed. Shiro had knelt between his legs and asked if he could help Keith with his stretches. 

 

He scrubs the back of his thumb across his eyes, frustrated by the memory and how the sensation of Shiro’s palms against the meat of his thigh  _ still _ lingers. Keith’s had his fair share of crushes, dated three different people, had sex with two of them, and  _ none  _ of them ever lingered on his mind the way Shiro does. 

 

This is doubly frustrating because Keith had told himself he wasn’t looking to date  _ anyone.  _ He’s on the verge of being a senior. One more summer vacation and after that, Keith needs to focus on his college applications. He needs to try and make valedictorian, if that’s possible. The very last thing he needs is to have his focus shifting towards a guy. Even if the aforementioned guy happens to be Shiro. Who is smart, funny, earnest, and a bit of a dork.

 

Keith makes an annoyed noise into his hand, wishing he could reach into his skull and shut off the part of his brain that encourages romantic feelings. Just... why now? Why are his feelings towards Shiro growing more nebulous  _ right _ before exam season? 

 

_ This is the worst _ , Keith grumbles to himself as he glares down at the physics problem he’s been trying to figure out for the last ten minutes but hasn’t been able to because Shiro’s foot is pressed casually against his ankle under the table. 

 

“You alright?” Shiro asks softly from across the table.

 

Keith glances up into concerned gray eyes and nods, gesturing at the open notebook with a face that’s meant to imply the problems are giving him a headache, and not the boy himself. Shiro gives him a sympathetic look and slides his notes halfway across the table. But Keith shakes his head again, “I’ll figure it out, thanks.”

 

They’re seated in the library, having commandeered a four-man table for themselves. One of the perks of being a part-timer in the library is that Keith had managed to stick a ‘reserved’ sign on the table  _ well _ before classes let out. And once Shiro had shown up, bag bouncing against his hip, they’d sat down to study together.  For the past week, it’s usually been the five of them studying together, but Hunk, Pidge, and Lance are out of town for their robotics competition. Keith catches Shiro checking his phone for updates but the downcast pout tells him there’s no news. He hopes the trio wins.

 

Keith gently nudges his toe against Shiro’s foot, smiling faintly at how Shiro’s eyes guiltily fly up to meet his. “Physics,” Keith reminds him gently.

 

Shiro sighs, shoulders drooping as he puts his phone away in his bag before picking his pencil up again. “I hate physics.”

 

“It’s not that bad,” Keith answers lightly, checking his scribblings before erasing the whole thing. May as well start from scratch instead of try and find a single mistake in the whole mess. He scowls when his enthusiastic rubbing makes the page tear. Dammit.

 

Annoyed, he tears the page out, balls it up, and shoves it to the other side of the table before starting again. They don’t talk much after that. There’s one instance where Shiro quietly asks Keith to explain one of the problems, which Keith is more than happy to do. After that, they both keep their heads bent over their work.

 

Neither of them is aware of the passage of time or how more and more students leave the library. Which is why they both jump when  Mrs. Jenkins clears her throat. She eyes the small pile of crumpled papers next to their elbows before saying, “Almost time to close up, boys.”

 

They’re quick to pack their things up, making small talk while doing so. For some reason, Keith’s unspeakably pleased when Shiro tells him he’s more or less ready for their exams next week. “Physics is all I’ve got left to revise. I’m done with everything else. I just need to make my final bunch of notes. You?”

 

Keith grins, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Their shoulders knock together when Shiro leans in to see the pictures Keith’s pulled up. His breathless “Wow” rings in Keith’s right ear, causing his breath to hitch. “ _ Those  _ are your notes? They’re so neat and organized! Mine are a freaking mess.”

 

“You want to borrow them?” Keith asks, “I could make copies if you want.”

 

“I’d appreciate that.” He tells himself that the way his heart lurches at Shiro’s grateful smile isn’t significant. Keith tells himself that over and over again until he manages to get his heart rate back down to normal.

 

Pushing the doors open, Keith takes in a deep breath and asks, “Your car here yet?”

 

Shiro’s already got his phone pressed against his ear, a soft frown on his lips, “Ought be. Lemme ca- Hey Mark. Are you guys here?” Keith peers up at Shiro as he listens to whatever it is that Mark says. “Oh, okay. How long is it going to take? Ah. No, I’ll figure something out. Keith’s here with me so I’ll just stay with him. Yeah. Yeah, okay. See you.”

 

“Everything okay?” Keith asks.

 

“They’re stuck in traffic,” Shiro answers, slipping his phone back into his inner blazer pocket. His playful grin coupled with the way he nudges Keith with his elbow make the shorter boy want to smile. “Guess you’re stuck with me a while longer.”

 

“I guess I can put up with you some more,” Keith sighs theatrically, laughing as he ducks when Shiro swings his arm wide. But Shiro’s faster, catching his head in a teasing headlock before ruffling his hair. “Uncle! Uncle!”

 

He could stay in this moment for the rest of his life and be happy with it. His body pressing against Shiro’s, leaching heat and happiness off him. Keith uses their play fight as an excuse to get his arm around Shiro’s waist, learning how his back feels against his inner elbow. Keith also winds up learning Shiro’s got a ticklish spot under his left ribs that has him tumbling to the ground with giggles on his lips and tears in his eyes.

 

The sweet sound sends a pang of hurt through his heart. If it was possible for a Disney prince to be real, Keith thinks, Shiro has to be it. From his soft hair that never seems a lick out of place to his perfect grin. From the way he stands up for his friends, Pidge especially, to the way he geeks out with Hunk when he starts explaining their club’s newest project.

 

As he straddles Shiro’s waist, fingers gliding over his ticklish spots, Keith wants to know what to call this warmth building in his chest. It feels more significant than his past crushes. He almost wants to call it love but it’s too soon isn’t it? It has to be. 

 

“What’re you two doing?” 

 

Hands freezing on Shiro’s chest, Keith looks up at the exasperated question. Shiro tilts his head back and stares up at the groundskeeper who is eyeing them both. “Uuuh, waiting for his car to show up?” Keith answers.

 

“Do it elsewhere,” the man tuts. “And get off the ground.”

 

Keith is suddenly, viscerally aware of how his knees are digging into Shiro’s sides. He can’t help but suck in a quick breath when Shiro raises his knees and presses his thighs against Keith’s ass. His body shoots up like like it’s been electrocuted, embarrassment turning his face red. It helps to see Shiro’s embarrassed at being caught as well, his handsome face tinted pink.

 

The groundskeeper is moving on already, muttering under his breath about boys who don’t respect school property or the rules. Keith shuffles his feet, wondering how to bring back the easy camaraderie between them, when Shiro’s phone beeps. 

 

“They’ll be here in 10,” Shiro says quietly, almost apologetically. Keith smiles faintly, lips tugging higher up when Shiro says, “I’ll walk you back to your dorm?”

 

Keith nods, eager to spend more time with Shiro. They fall into step, walking down the short steps leading up to the main entrance before taking a right. The dorms are a five minute walk away when Keith is doing his usual brisk walk. Right now, he grips his backpack tightly and drags his heels.

 

A corvid caws overhead, taking flight as they pass by under its tree. Somewhere in the distance, someone presses down on their car horn angrily. Keith licks his lips and wonders what to talk about.

 

Thankfully, Shiro’s a step ahead of him, “Is it cool living on campus? I kind of imagine something like  _ Dead Poet’s Society  _ when I think about living in a dorm.”

 

Keith snorts loudly, “It’s not that stuffy. And I don’t know. I don’t really have anywhere else to go. I’ve been staying in dorms and boarding schools for ages.” He catches the guilty look that flits across Shiro’s face, and immediately seeks to reassure the other boy. “I mean, I guess I could live with my Uncle Randall but I already do that for summers. When school starts it’s just easier to stay on campus. I guess I just like the independence that comes with living in a dorm.”

 

Shiro doesn’t say anything. When Keith sneaks a peek at him, he’s staring guiltily down at the cracked pavement underneath his feet. His expression is sister to the shocked face he’d made when Keith had railed at him in the library. A belated realization that he may have accidentally touched upon a sensitive topic. 

 

As he looks at Shiro, Keith sees his shoulders visibly droop. Before he can stop himself, Keith leans against Shiro’s arm, “Hey, it’s fine. It was an innocent question. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

 

“Still...” Shiro doesn’t meet his eyes but he doesn’t pull away from the pressure Keith’s applying on his side either. Keith takes it as a positive and leans a little harder against Shiro, giving the taller boy the smallest of shoves to make him look at Keith. It works. Shiro peeks at him through his lashes, hesitant and sad. “I just... I feel like I keep stepping in it when I’m around you.”

 

“Did you mean anything bad by it?” Keith asks. When Shiro shakes his head, he slaps Shiro in the middle of his back. “Then it’s okay. Alright? Forget about it. Besides, we’re friends now. I've told you before, you can ask me stuff.”

 

The gentle hope he sees dawning across Shiro’s face almost makes Keith blush. He’s aware of how his words sound. How he’s implying that he trusts Shiro with his past. A small part of Keith hopes fervently that Shiro will prove himself worthy of that trust. A louder voice however, reassures that voice that yes, Shiro will be. 

 

“Really? It’d be okay?” Shiro asks.

 

Keith nods, stepping over a larger crack, “Not at  _ any  _ time but. If you ever want to know anything then... Just ask me. I’ll tell you.” 

 

To hide his heated cheeks from Shiro’s surprised, pleased expression, Keith raises a self conscious hand to curl his hair behind his ear. Taking his time with the gesture, lightly clutching at the ends of his hair before letting his fingertips drag down the side of his neck. By the time Keith’s hand is dragging down to hold onto his bag strap, Shiro’s finally looked away from him.

 

There’s no helping the way Keith blinks and peeks over at Shiro. His heart clenches and trips over its own beat at the tiny smile Shiro is giving his shoes. “Thanks,” he finally says, shy and happy. 

 

Keith doesn’t trust his voice to come out steady in answer, so he just nods stiffly and kicks a leaf out of the way. The dried leaf listlessly drifts a few inches to the side. Shiro’s shoulder brushes against his as he avoids a small puddle in his path. 

 

Clearing his throat, Keith asks, “What about you. What’s it like living in the palace? It’s gotta be cool, right?”

 

Shiro laughs almost immediately, “Yeah, I guess it is. It used to be a pain when I was a kid though. I mean, that place is  _ huge _ .  You won’t believe how many times I got lost in it. But yeah. I loved exploring the place growing up. I’d pretend I was a space explorer and sneak around the place, acting like each room was a new planet.”

 

Keith’s trying to imagine what a younger Shiro must have looked like, and more importantly if he still had the same haircut he’s got now, when Shiro turns to him with an excited expression, “You should come over some time for dinner or something!”

 

The invitation has Keith blinking in surprise, “Like... with the king and queen?”

 

It’s arguably one of the more ludicrous things his brain has been made to process. Keith imagines himself sitting in a fancy dining room that’s all shiny wood, expensive tableware, and lit by candlelight for some reason. Would he have to wear a fancy suit if having dinner with the king and queen? 

 

Shiro chuckles, like he knows what Keith is imagining, “Yeah. Don’t worry, it won’t be stuffy or anything. We’re a regular family like anyone else.”

 

“That’s a  _ little _ hard to imagine,” Keith points out. “I mean.  _ King _ and  _ queen _ .”

 

“They’re human just like you and me. Just... You don’t have to act any differently around them. You just need to be yourself. Like you are around me. You’ve never treated me any differently.”

 

Keith snorts and shakes his head, “See, it was hard to think of you as royalty after I saw you snort milk out of your nose.”

 

Pink suffuses Shiro’s cheeks as he groans up at the sky, “You  _ promised _ you wouldn’t bring that up again!”

 

“Sorry,” Keith snerks, dodging the playful kick Shiro aims at his knee. 

 

“Anyways. You should come over. I’ve told my parents about you and they want to meet you someday.” 

 

Keith’s not sure how to describe the complicated feelings that rise in him at Shiro’s casual confession. Nervous pride and worry. “You told them about me?”

 

“‘Course I did.” Shiro’s answer, as he taps something into his phone, is so matter of fact that Keith’s not sure what to make of it. Like of course he had to tell his parents about Keith. Like Keith is  _ that  _ important. Like there was no avoiding telling his parents.

 

“Uh I’ll think about it. Someday. Maybe after test season.” Keith offers, trying not to sigh in disappointment when he sees they’re almost at his dorm building.

 

Shiro looks up from his phone to beam at him, “Yeah? Cool. Oh! You could come over for my birthday!”

 

“Birthday?” 

 

The taller teen nods eagerly, forgetting about the message he’s been typing to explain, “It’s still a while away - in February. But it’s a huge thing for my parents because... you know. Protocol and all that shit. I wind up having two parties every year. This super boring and stuffy formal party and a smaller party with just my friends.”

 

Keith can’t imagine being that rich and important to have two parties. “Are they on two separate days?”

 

“Na, the second one is more like an after party. The formal party is always this brunch deal so that I can spend the night with my friends. It’s nothing wild. We just hang out, watch movies, play some games. Pretty chill.” Shiro pauses, hand touching Keith’s arm. Keith finds himself stopping, turning to look up at Shiro as he asks, “Will you come?”

 

Being the subject of Shiro’s earnest gaze and soft question makes Keith breath catch. How his voice remains steady is a mystery. “It’ll depend on what day it is. But I’ll try.”

 

“Awesome,” Shiro squeezes his arm, the grip sending heat shooting up Keith’s limb. “I’ll tell you when they pick the date.”

 

\--

 

E xam week is a peaceful week for Keith, with four friends by his side instead of just Pidge. He won’t admit it within earshot of Lance, but it’s nicer to have a larger group of friends. Don’t get him wrong. He loves Pidge to pieces but... it’s nice to have more people to talk and shoot the shit with.

 

They all pass with decent grades, Keith and Pidge amongst their class’s top 5%. Hunk is two marks short of being in the same category, something that makes him pout with disappointment. Shiro is pleased being in the top 10% while Lance grumbles that his poor chemistry score made him drop a few places down.

 

It’s peaceful. Keith finds himself missing the group even before they part on Friday. After the quarterly exams, there’s winter holidays - 2 weeks off  where students can unwind before the spring/summer semester starts. 

 

They all agree to meet up at least once during the week-long holidays but due to their schedules, it winds up being impossible. Hunk and Lance’s families go off on a joint trip to somewhere. Pidge drags her brother off to the other end of the state to check out some exhibit. And Shiro... 

 

He has long conversations with Shiro via text messages. They start early in the morning, when Shiro’s been woken up by his mother to attend to his royal duties (whatever they may be, Keith is genuinely mystified by what kind of duties Shiro has to attend to as a prince). Their talks go long into the night, well after Keith’s turned the lights off and lies in his bed, face illuminated by the light of his phone. 

 

“ _ I just want to sleep _ ,” is Shiro’s most frequent complaint, something that has Keith stifling giggles into his fist every time. 

 

“ _ It’s your royal duty, suck it up,”  _ is Keith’s frequent reply.

 

Shiro replies back with either a sad face emoji coupled with “ _ You’re supposed to be on my side :( _ ” 

 

It’s during one such talk that Shiro invites him to his birthday party, complete with a picture of a fancy, embossed invitation card. “ _ I’ll give you your card when we meet. You’ll have to RSVP if you’re showing up _ .  _ There’s no invitation card for the after party but I’m inviting you to it :) _ ”

 

Keith doesn’t reply to that particular message, not sure if he wants to attend the fancy formal party. He imagines the party will a lot like the luncheons that the school arranges for its sponsors, patrons, and wealthy parents. Lots of fancy finger food, extravagance bleeding from the edges, snotty people haughtily talking about things like their opinion is the only opinion that matters.

 

He’d rather pass. 

 

But the after-party...

 

Keith stares long and hard at the smiley face Shiro’s sent him at the end of his message. He’d like to attend that. He’d like to see what Shiro’s like in his home. What his room like? What does he wear at home? What’s the palace like? What are the king and queen like? Keith is ever so curious to know what Shiro’s home life is.

 

It’s that curiosity that compels him to agree to come to the after party. “ _ Don’t have a fancy suit for your formal party, sorry. I’d probably piss someone off anyways. You know me.”  _ This is Keith’s version of apologizing as to why he can’t attend the bigger party.

 

He grins at his phone when Shiro answers back, “ _ Lol I’d pay to see that tbh some of these people need to be hit in the face with the truth. _ ”

 

Keith figures that’s it. He’s accepted the invitation to Shiro’s party six weeks from now and all he’s got to do is figure out how he’s going to get there. He could either borrow a bike from someone or see if he can hitch a ride with Pidge to the nearest mall. But Keith shrugs the idea away. Shiro’s birthday is ages away. He doesn’t need to worry just yet.

 

They’re a week into the new semester and fresh off the high of having successfully pranked half the school with Shiro’s help when it strikes Keith he still needs to get Shiro a birthday gift. 

 

It starts when they’re hanging by Hunk’s locker, wasting time between classes, when Lance shows up and asks, “So, what do you want for your birthday?”

 

Shiro sighs, “Nothing. I don’t want anything.”

 

“You’ve got to want  _ something _ ,” Lance insists, pulling Shiro closer by his shoulders. Keith meanwhile, wants to slap his own forehead because how could he have forgotten  _ that _ .

 

Shaking his head, Shiro answers, “I really don’t. Just get me whatever. You know I don’t care about presents.”

 

“You remember what happened the last time you told him to get you whatever, right?” Hunk reminds him with a laugh. “He got you that ugly monkey statue.”

 

“Hey! It wasn’t ugly! It was  _ funny _ .”

 

While Lance defends the statue, Keith internally panics over Shiro’s gift. He doesn’t have a lot of money in the first place. On top of which, Shiro’s a prince. What can you get a guy who can afford to get  _ anything _ he wants, twice over?

 

“Shiro liked it so, whatever,” Lance sniffs, peering down in surprise when he feels a tug on his bag. He stares down at Pidge, who is busy rummaging through his books, “What’re you looking for?”

 

“Your Chem. book. I forgot mine at the dorm and I’m not going back to get it.”

 

“You could have just asked for it,” Lance says as he pulls the thick hardbound book out of his bag.

 

Pidge shrugs and accepts the book, flipping it open to a chapter before turning her judgemental gaze at Lance. “Really?” she asks, holding up the open page to show off the doodle of Lance and Hunk being waited on hand and foot by what is clearly a harem.

 

“A man’s gotta have dreams,” Lance defends his decision, squawking when Hunk tries to take the book from Pidge. He immediately grabs the book out of Pidge’s hand and is dogpiled.

 

While the trio engage in their little scuffle, Shiro sides up next to him. His voice is pitched soft, low enough so that only Keith hears it, “You don’t have to worry about the present you know.”

 

“Huh?” Keith asks with a started blink, nearly taking a shocked step back when he realizes his proximity to Shiro.

 

Shiro’s smile grows, “My birthday present? You don’t have to worry about it. You don’t have to get me anything. You just need to show up, that’s all I want.”

 

There seems to be a world of meaning behind that that Keith’s not sure he’s ready to understand just yet. So instead he nods slowly, wanting to take Shiro up on his words but... At the same time, Keith feels compelled to give Shiro  _ something _ .

  
He just needs to figure out  _ what _ .


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small update to the tags.

His formal birthday party is the same stuffy party it is every year. His parents invite numerous diplomats, politicians, entrepreneurs, business owners, etc. etc. until the ballroom is full to overflowing. Opulence drips from every aspect of the party, from the decorations to the food. Every person and everything inside the ballroom is tinted gold by the warm lights. 

 

Shiro meets numerous familiar faces and a slew of new ones. For a full three hours, he’s smiling at everyone he meets, accepting their congratulations graciously, and wishing he was downstairs with his friends. It’s part and parcel of being a prince however. So Shiro smiles until his cheeks hurt, glad-hands, and makes nice.

 

The one upside of his party however, is that his few oldest friends have flown in. John, a fellow prince from a neighbouring country arrived a while ago and is currently joking with Shiro’s dad. Shiro can hear his friends’ merry laugh underscoring the general chatter in the large room. 

 

“Shiro!”

 

Hearing his name, Shiro turns in place. His eyes move past a multitude of faces until he catches sight of the hand raised up to catch his attention. Shiro beams at the girls walking up to him, handing his half-full plate off to a passing waiter before briskly walking over to Allura and Shay. 

 

Shay lowers her hand, smile growing as Allura whispers something in her ear. The taller girl giggles, normally frizzy hair neatly twisted into an elegant up-do that accentuates her handsome features. Even from the distance, Shiro can tell the freckles across her nose have doubled. 

 

She’s dressed simply compared with the rest of the crowd, for comfort rather than fashion. Her sleeveless dress is a deep plum shade with white accents at the edges. The fanciest part of it is the delicate brooch sparkling in the middle of the white belt. It’s an understated but elegant look. A lot like Shay herself.

 

By comparison, Allura looks very much like the princess she is. Her gown whispers against the marble floor, the shimmering silk reminding Shiro of ripples dancing on a lake. Dark shoulders and arms peek through blue silk thanks to the golden clasps strategically pinning the material to the top of her shoulders, elbows, and wrists. Her silvery hair flows down her back in a straight line, a few braids keeping her hair twisted off her face. She walks tall and proud, silver heels peeking out from under the hem with each step.

 

On top of her head rests a simple golden crownlet with sapphires and diamonds sparkling in it. Her face lights up with a smile brilliant enough to rival the gems when she catches sight of Shiro walking up to her. 

 

“You made it,” Shiro exclaims, holding his hands out.

 

Each girl accepts a hand, squeezing his fingers immediately. Allura laughs as Shay pulls him into a warm hug. “We’d never miss your birthday party! How have you been? It’s been too long!”

 

“It  _ has _ . You’re staying for the afterparty right?” He looks between the two eagerly.

 

Allura is grinning as Shay pulls away, taking hold of her girlfriend's hand, “Of course. We’re here for the full week. We’ll have more than enough time to hang out and catch up.” 

 

“Where are your parents, by the way?” Shay asks, pushing herself up to her tiptoes as she searches the crowd. “I wanted to say hi to your mom.”

 

Heart and mood lightening, Shiro takes them to where he last saw his mother. As soon as she’s left to meet the French ambassador, Shiro begs the pair to stick by his side before he decides to act on his impulse to escape his own birthday party by choking on a canape.

 

The girls laugh and agree. As a result of their company, and eventually John’s, another old friend, the rest of the party is far more bearable. Allura snarks under her breath every time someone tries to butter up to him, causing Shiro to struggle not to burst out laughing. Shay initially frets a little that someone may overhear but soon enough gets swept up in the mood. John keeps up a deadpanned commentary which frequently has their small group breaking down into loud laughter that earns equal parts disapproval and curious-amusement.

 

Not nearly soon enough, the party starts to wind down. Shiro is relieved to send the last of their official guests away, already bouncing on his heels as he watches the Secretary of Education carefully step into her car. 

 

His parents laugh at his enthusiasm, mother kissing his cheek and his dad pats his shoulder before they send him away, “Go have fun with your friends. I think Hunk is already here.”

 

Shiro changes out of his stiff formal wear, slipping on a worn pair of jeans and dark tee-shirt before bouncing down the stairs to the movie room. Hunk is already there, being swept up in a hug by an enthusiastic Shay. “Where’s Lance?” she asks while setting Hunk back down on his feet.

 

“He said he’d be a little late. He’s got to attend Lily’s ballet recital. Hey dude,” Hunk grins, pulling a small wrapped gift out of his jacket. “Happy birthday.”

 

“You didn’t have to,” Shiro says even as he’s tearing the shiny wrapping paper away.

 

Hunk laughs, “Oh trust me. We  _ had _ to. It’s from Lance and me.”

 

Allura and Shay, both still in their partywear, press against against his side curiously. They crack up as soon as they see “Instant excuse maker”, laughing harder when they see Shiro’s put out expression.

 

“I’m not  _ that _ bad at lying that I need a magic 8-ball for it,” Shiro complains good naturedly, ripping the tape off the box before pulling the excuse ball out. He shakes it a couple of times before turning it around to check the display window. “Jury duty” floats up at him.

 

Shay giggles, “You kind of are.”

 

“Remember the time he said Santa broke the vase  _ he _ broke?” Allura laughs.

 

Groaning, Shiro complains, “I was  _ four _ ! I  _ panicked _ !”

 

“When’d he panic?” John asks as he steps back into the room, now wearing gray sweats and a sports tank with  _ Wildcats _ emblazoned on it. He uses his thumb to point over his shoulder, “All yours, ladies.”

 

Shay exchanges a look with Allura before grabbing her change of clothes and heading to the bathroom door on the other end of the room. John steps up to him, laughing when he sees the gag gift Shiro’s holding. “Good one man, he needs it.”

 

He’s ready to argue, in depth, why he doesn’t need any help thinking up excuses, when the door to the movie room flies open.

 

“The party has  _ arrived _ ,” Lance declares, making a bee-line for Shiro. He plonks a shiny pointed hat on top of the prince’s head before blowing on a noise maker. “Happy birthday dude! Hope Hunk gave you our gift.”

 

“Hope you’re actually going to use it,” Pidge jokes as she follows in after Lance, kicking the door closed.

 

Throwing his hands up in playful exasperation, Shiro accepts his fate and lets the others playfully rib him.  _ The gang’s all here _ , Shiro thinks happily, watching Lance introduce Pidge to the others. 

 

Ah but that’s not quite right, is it. They’re missing Keith.

 

His fingers itch for his phone but the device is currently plugged into its charger in his room. Shiro has no way of knowing when Keith is going to show up. He’d passed on attending the formal party but said he’d figure out a way to come for the after party.

 

Shiro is already abuzz with excitement, eager to introduce Keith to his parents, to Allura, Shay, and John. He wants to show Keith his home, see how he fits in here.

 

“What’s got you so happy?” Allura asks quietly as she returns, dress draped over her arm.  She looks more like her age with all the make-up wiped off and sporting a set of pajamas that have cartoon sushi printed on them.

 

Grinning back, Shiro answers, “I told you I made some new friends right?”

 

“Yes, I remember,” the princess nods. “Pidge is one of them, right? There’s someone else?”

 

Nodding in excitement, he answers, “Yeah. Keith. He’s going to come for the afterparty. I was just wondering when he’s going to show up.”  _ And how I can’t wait for him to meet you _ .

 

Shiro hopes, incredibly hard, that Allura and Keith will get along. It’s not that he  _ needs _ Allura’s approval but... it would be nice to have. She’s been his oldest friend thanks to the good diplomatic ties between their nations. So much so that their parents used to joke that the pair would eventually marry. 

 

Knowing that Allura liked Keith would mean a lot to him. He wants his old friend and new friends to get along. 

 

Allura’s gaze grows curious, brilliant blue eyes narrowing contemplatively. It makes Shiro squirm a little. “What?” He finally asks, rolling the excuse ball around in his hands.

 

“You sound excited for me to meet him,” Allura says slowly before her eyes fly open, a grin blooming over her lips. “Do you like him? Is that why you’re so excited?”

 

He immediately shushes her, gesturing wildly with one hand for her to lower her voice. “You  _ do _ !” She laughs at him. “Why didn’t you tell me? Oh now I  _ really _ can’t wait to meet him. Have the others already met him?”

 

“We all go to the same school,” Shiro admits, taking a sip of his apple cider before hurriedly swallowing when he sees the look in Allura’s eyes. “Don’t ask the others about him!”

 

“Why not? I want to know what he’s like.”

 

Her pout makes Shiro groan. “Okay but don’t ask Lance okay? Ask Pidge and Hunk.  _ Subtly _ .”

 

“Why shouldn’t I ask Lance? Do they not get along?”

 

Snorting, Shiro tells her about Lance and Keith’s rivalry, which is still going strong despite the fact that they’re all friends now. “So whatever you’ll hear from Lance is going to be totally biased.”

 

Allura laughs behind her hand, “Understood. And I’m assuming I should be subtle because the others don’t know how you feel about him?”

 

“Yeah. No one else knows.”

 

“Rest assured, I will be the definition of discrete.”

 

\--

 

Hours later, after the long and passionate debate over which movie they needed to start their movie marathon with, Shiro tries to find a spot to put his foot down as he tries to make his way across the room to the intercom buzzing away on the wall.

 

“Make way guys, come on!” Shiro laughs when he feels someone slapping his calf. “I saw that John! Come on guys, that’s probably the pizza guy.”

 

The magic words clear a path for him within seconds. Shiro shakes his head in amusement as he picks the receiver up, saying, “Yes?”

 

There’s static before a husky voice comes in from the other end, “Your Highness, another one of your guests showed up. Keith Kogane.”

 

Excitement thrums in Shiro almost immediately, “Send him in.” Without waiting for a response, Shiro puts the phone back on the hook before darting out the room, throwing a “Be right back” over his shoulder. 

 

He races up staircases and down hallways, heart thrumming “He came! He came!” in his ears happily. Shiro’s more than a little breathless as throws the foyer doors open, eyes darting around in search of Keith. Who jumps at the sound of the doors hitting the wall.

 

Violet eyes meet his, startled wonder fading away into soft happiness. “Hey birthday boy,” Keith greets him.

 

Shiro grins too wide and too happy as he approaches Keith, wanting terribly to grab the other teen in a hug but restraining himself by holding his hand out. Energy runs up his arm and down his spine when Keith’s palm connects, pulling him for a quick half-hug, back-pat. 

 

“You’re late,” Shiro teases, gently punching the other boy’s shoulder.

 

Keith sticks his hands into his short jacket, the red color looking as crisp and distracting as a ripe apple on a tree. “You never gave me an exact time to show up at. So technically, it’s your fault I’m late.”

 

“Ass,” Shiro laughs, trying to catch Keith in a headlock to noogie him, but Keith is wise to his ways now. The shorter teen darts well out of his reach, laughing when Shiro darts forward to try and catch him. They dodge around each other for a couple of moments before a door opening on the other side makes them pause.

 

Joan peeks in, eyes immediately locking onto Shiro, “Pizza’s here.” she says, pushing the door open for another security guard, Mary, to walk in. Shiro catches the look of wide eyed surprise on Keith’s face when he sees the actual stack of boxes the other lady is holding in her arms.

 

“Thanks Joan,” Shiro says, moving to take half of the boxes out of Mary’s hands. He immediately passes them on to Keith before taking the latter half. “Was the money enough?”

 

“More than. You go have fun. Oh and tell the chef when you’re ready for your cake.” Shiro nods, stomach growling as the smell of meat and cheese wafts up his nose. He’d barely had a chance to eat anything at the first party. Besides a couple of finger sandwiches and a slim slice of cake, Shiro’s not sure what he’d eaten for the whole three hours.

 

Keith snickers next to him as he doubtlessly catches the sounds Shiro’s stomach is making, “Hungry?” he teasingly asks.

 

“I could eat an elephant,” Shiro groans, tempted to open the topmost box and stuff an entire slice into his mouth. He’s done it before, he could do it again. “Come on, let’s get this to the others.”

 

Keith falls into step behind him, the pizza boxes in his arms pressing into Shiro’s arm every so often. “How many people are there that you ordered this much pizza?” Keith finally asks, voice dubious. “I thought you said the afterparty was small?”

 

“It is. And it’s just eight people. You, me, Hunk, Pidge, Lance, and a couple of my old friends. And we’re all big eaters. Lance can put away a whole pizza on his own.” 

 

There’s a pause before Keith says, “You’re kidding me right? Where the fuck does it go? He’s so damn skinny.”

 

“A medical mystery,” Shiro jokes, turning down a hallway before beginning to go down the stairs into the basement. “I think it’s a part of being a runner? I dunno, you’ll have to ask him. He’s got the whole science part of it memorized. Oop, careful.”

 

His hand shoots out to steady Keith as his stack of pizza boxes wobble, fingers curling around his waist while Keith’s hands tighten around the cardboard boxes. Shiro tells himself the reason why his heart is beating so fast is because the pizza nearly went toppling to the floor. And not because his fingers are curling around the soft material of Keith’s shirt.

 

“Got it?” He asks, waiting for Keith to nod and readjust his grip on the pizza boxes before continuing their trek down the stairs.

 

“Where we going anyways?” Keith asks as they hit the landing, turning down another long hallway. “Your room?”

 

“Nah, the movie room. Well, I say it’s a movie room but more like a general entertainment room?” Shiro shrugs. “There’s a projector, a couple of my game consoles, stuff like that. But I set it up as a place to chill and watch movies so... movie room.”

 

Keith nods, “Sounds fancy.”

 

“I guess. Here we are.” Shiro stands in front of the closed door. He eyes their full hands before kicking at the door, yelling, “Someone open the door.” 

 

“Very princely,” Keith teases him dryly. For that, Shiro contemplates trying to kick Keith as well but they’re both holding precious cargo in their hands so he resolves to get his revenge later. 

 

Within a minute, John’s dark face is opening the door. His face lights up almost immediately, “Yes! Food’s here!” He declares to the room occupants, stealing the boxes out of Keith’s hands before darting back in.

 

“Thanks for the help man,” Shiro snarks, nodding at Keith as he holds the door open for him. John laughs from the depths of the dark room. Hunk is next to come up, taking a few of the boxes out of his grip and setting them up on the table next to the other boxes John has already opened up.

 

Shiro pulls Keith down on the floor next to him, passing him a paper plate before asking, “What do you want? We’ve got double of everything.”

 

“Even Hawaiian?” Keith asks, a statement that makes most of the group gasp or gag. 

 

From the other side of the large, low table, Lance groans, “Figures you’d like pineapple on your pizza. What is  _ wrong  _ with you?”

 

Except John, who holds a fist out towards Keith with a, “Finally a man with good taste. Shiro, I like him. Keep him.”

 

Keith bemusedly accepts the fist bump while Shiro pulls a slice of Hawaiian pizza onto Keith’s plate with a cheerful, “Enjoy.” He points at the piles of large cushions scattered around the floor, “Sit down anywhere. Or if you can, you can steal a bean bag. Oh shit, I forgot. John, Shay, Allura, this is Keith. We go to school together. Keith, that’s Shay, Allura, and John, they’re really old friends of mine.”

 

Shay gives him a shy smile, Allura waves from the sofa, and John nods. Keith quietly nods to the trio of them before scoping the room out, clearly debating where to sit. 

 

Allura and Shay have taken the entirety of the couch while Lance and Hunk have claimed the loveseat adjacent to it. Pidge has stolen two bean bags and looks determined to become one with the soft blue seats. John is arranging a few of the large cushions so that they form a seat before lounging back, facing the movie playing on the large screen.

 

Shiro smiles when he sees Keith notice the movie, mouth falling open before he hisses, “Isn’t this the new  _ Ultimate Wars  _ movie? It’s not supposed to be out till next month! How the hell did you-?”

 

“One of the perks of being royalty. Here, why don’t you sit over there?” Shiro points at the floor where he’d previously been sitting. “Take your jacket and shoes off, relax.”

 

He watches Keith hesitate before nodding slowly. Keith almost tiptoes between the many cushions before neatly sitting down on the cushion Shiro had pointed towards. There’s a delicateness in his gestures when he places his plate down on the floor before pushing his jacket off. Keith suffers through some internal debate before hesitantly folding the jacket on top of the nearby yellow bean bag before tackling his boots.

 

Shiro wonders if Keith feels out of place and resolves to make Keith feel at home here. He wants Keith to feel like he belongs here. His stomach however, reminds Shiro to prioritize himself first.  _ Right. Pizza first, then Keith _ , Shiro resolves, grabbing a plate for himself before eyeing the selection before him.

 

He’s pulling a meat lover's slice on top of the slice of cheese pizza when Allura drops to her knees next to him. 

 

“Is that him?” She quietly asks him, eyes glimmering in the low light as she glances over at Keith, who is nibbling at the pizza while staring with wide eyes up at the screen. When Shiro nods, she murmurs, “He’s pretty good looking. Kind of quiet though.”

 

“You just need to get to know him. And he just met you,” Shiro points out quietly. “It takes him a while to open up to new people.” 

 

Allura hums, delicately picking a slice of pizza for herself before returning to lounge on the sofa. She slips in under Shay’s arm with a happy smile, the taller girl pressing a shy kiss into Allura’s hair before turning her attention back to the movie.

 

Considering that to be the end of their conversation, Shiro moves to sit next to Keith, who immediately shifts to make room for Shiro. But he waves at Keith to stay in his place, stacking two pillows together before leaning back against them. “Just relax,” Shiro tells the other teen, pressing his foot against Keith’s socked one. 

 

Keith smiles faintly, shoulders dropping before he raises his pizza slice back up to his mouth. Shiro finds himself distracted by the way Keith takes small, distracted bites while keeping the bulk of his focus on the movie. After roughly thirty minutes of repeatedly sneaking peeks up at Keith, Shiro feels something soft hit the back of his head.

 

Raising himself up from his seat, Shiro scowls behind him. Allura is grinning at him, making kissing faces that make Shiro grab the wadded up napkin and toss it back at her direction. It falls short and bounces off a half-closed pizza box and onto the floor.

 

Huffing, Shiro goes back to resting his head on the cushion, half watching the movie, half watching Keith’s amazed expression. In the last fifteen or so minutes of the movie, Shiro gives up his pretense and observes Keith.

 

He’s forgotten all about his pizza, which hangs in mid-air from his slack fingers. Keith’s mouth is open in a small “o”, eyes wide as the movie races through its climax. The fight playing across the screen has everyone else cheering for their favorites and throwing unused packets of pepper flakes and wadded up napkins at the screen when the villain manages to get away.

 

“That was going to happen anyways,” Pidge rationalizes, somehow having shifted to sharing the sofa with Allura. “They’ve got to make the last part of the trilogy after all.” Allura nods in agreement. 

 

But Lance is shaking his head, “That doesn’t mean they  _ have  _ to keep the same cast! They could have killed him here and brought a new villain in. We all know this story isn’t going to wrap up in another movie. There’s going to be  _ at least _ two more movies.”

 

“The director’s said as much,” John chimes in, licking his fingers clean. 

 

As the others argue on, Shiro looks at Keith, who is frowning at his cold pizza before sticking half of it in mouth. He chuckles when Keith struggles to chew. The laugh is loud enough to make Keith frown at him, cheeks puffed out. Laughing harder, Shiro asks, “So? What did  _ you  _ think about it?”

 

Keith holds a finger up, hurriedly chewing and swallowing the pizza before breathlessly answering, “It was great. Not as good as the last movie but pretty decent. What about you? Did you enjoy it?”

 

“Yeah,” Shiro smiles, relieved and annoyed in equal parts when Allura’s voice interrupts their conversation by telling him to put a new movie on. “Okay, okay,” Shiro pushes himself up to his feet. He distractedly cleans his fingers against his shirt before walking over towards the console asking, “What you want to watch next?”

 

\--

 

A part of Keith isn’t sure what he’s doing here. He feels painfully out of place sitting in the middle of a dark room in the depths of the royal palace. Sure it helps that he knows Hunk, Lance, Pidge, and Shiro but he’s never hung with them in this capacity. The new environment, and his proximity to Shiro, has Keith wound up tighter than a wind-up toy. 

 

He focuses on the cake on his plate, eating it in small, bite sized pieces because it seems important to him to show good manners even though it’s just them. Keith’s annoyed by his desire to make a good impression on Shiro and his old friends. As soon as that realization sets in, Keith shoves the last bit of cake into his mouth before lying down on the floor next to Shiro, chewing angrily.

 

Next to him, Shiro is comfortably reclining on the floor. His fingers are linked on his chest, half-open eyes locked onto the screen. Shiro’s gray eyes appear silver when they slide over to him as he moves. His smile is sleepy sweet when he says, “Hey.”

 

Swallowing dumbly, Keith whispers back, “Hi.”

 

“I’m really glad you came.”

 

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Keith reminds him, shifting closer when he notes the dirty look Pidge is shooting him. 

 

The hair on Keith’s arms rise up when their bare arms slide together. He’s stupidly glad he wore his short sleeved shirt. Gooseflesh erupts down both arms when Shiro leans in to whisper, hot air washing over Keith’s ear, “You were late. I was starting to worry.”

 

“Sorry for worrying you,” Keith murmurs back, remembering the reason for his tardiness. He’d been looking for a shop to buy a suitable gift box to stick Shiro’s gift into. And once he’d found the right box, the store clerk had taken his sweet time finding a matching bow and ringing Keith’s purchases up.

 

_ I’m  _ never  _ going back there again _ , Keith tells himself again, eyes glancing over at his jacket, where Shiro’s present rests. He wants to look back and check if it’s safe to give Shiro his present. Actually, Keith would like to know if the others have given Shiro any presents or not. It’d look weird if he’s the only one giving Shiro a birthday present, right?

 

He’s pulled out of his head when Shiro’s warm fingers curl around his forearm. “Hey, do you want the grand tour?”

 

Keith jumps, staring at Shiro’s hand for half a second before blinking up in surprise at Shiro’s grinning face, “But... the others?”

 

“They’re busy watching the movie. Plus I gave Pidge the tour with the others when she showed up. It’s your turn now.” Shiro’s already using his grip to pull Keith up to his feet.

 

It’s a tight but gentle grip, one that Keith can easily break if he wants. It’s a gentle urging from Shiro, one Keith can do nothing but follow, straightening up to his feet. “Going somewhere?” John drawls from his seat, tucking away into his third slice of chocolate cake.

 

“Going to give Keith the tour. You guys are fine, right?” There’s a vague but generally positive set of mumbles which makes Shiro turn to him and say, “Let’s go.”

 

Keith’s brain short circuits as Shiro pulls him up, fingers still curled around Keith’s wrist. He just barely remembers to grab his jacket and the present tucked away in it. He hardly thinks he can be blamed for it because this is almost like holding hands. Keith’s wrist feels hot and cold at the same time, like Shiro’s touch is searing into his skin and pulling heat out of Keith.

 

There’s a few times where Keith tries to gently tug his hand back but Shiro’s fingers tighten. Until he tries again and Shiro’s hand slips down, pressing their palms together as they walk down a long corridor. Keith feels his mouth go dry because this... this is a deliberate move. It has to be. 

 

It also gives him the courage to ask, “What about your room? Is that part of the tour too?”

 

Keith’s well aware of how flirtatious it sounds and that it hits the mark because of how it makes Shiro stutter to a stop half-way through an explanation about an old vase. His voice trails off, twin peaks of color touching his cheekbones before he laughs, free hand scrubbing the back of his neck, “There’s not a lot to see but I can show you if you want.”

 

“Yeah. I do,” Keith answers, giving Shiro’s hand a quick squeeze.

 

He stares at the way Shiro’s Adam’s apple bobs, wanting so terribly to step in front of the other teen and kiss his skin. “This way,” Shiro says, pulling him down the hallway. 

 

It takes so many twists and turns that Keith is genuinely lost. He even asks Shiro how he  _ doesn’t  _ get lost in a place this big. Shiro laughs, “I’ve gotten lost  _ plenty  _ of times growing up. It’s not that hard once you remember the basic structure I guess. Like wings and all? Plus, we put maps on the walls in a lot of places. With those ‘You are here’ dots on them. That really helped make a difference. You honestly won’t believe how many times we’ve lost people in here.”

 

Given the size of his place, Keith can easily imagine a newly hired maid or butler getting lost on their first day. When he points this out, Shiro immediately launches into a story about a  _ pair  _ of maids who’d gotten lost on their very first day on the job. 

 

“By the time we’d found them, huddled up on this covered sofa in one of the store rooms,” Shiro laughs, “it was almost dinner time and they were crying. After that, dad said all people working inside the palace had to keep a walkie talkie on them  _ and  _ decided to put the maps in. We haven’t lost anyone since then. Here we are.”

 

Shiro takes hold of the brass knob with his free hand before turning to Keith, who studies the door. It looks entirely unremarkable. Just a simple dark wood wood with a regular embossed design to it. There’s no sign or indication to give away it’s Shiro’s room.

 

“I’m warning you,” Shiro jokes. “You’re going to be pretty disappointed by what you’re about to see.”

 

Dryly, Keith answers, “I’ll be the judge of that. Stop putting this off, Shirogane.”

 

With a loud and dramatic sigh, Shiro throws the door open. “Ta-dan.”

 

Keith hesitates for a split second before stepping into the room, finally breaking the connection between him and Shiro. His hands hold onto his jacket tightly, excitement turning into surprise when he takes in the simple room.

 

Behind him, Shiro laughs, “Not what you were expecting, right?”

 

“I’m  _ incredibly  _ disappointed,” Keith answers, causing Shiro to crack up harder. “Where’s the four-poster bed? The roaring fireplace? The fancy velvet curtains with gold tassels? This is a complete and utter letdown, Shirogane.”

 

Shiro’s bedroom is a painfully normal bedroom. It’s remarkably similar to Keith’s dorm room as a matter of fact, the biggest differences being the size of the room and the dove gray walls. Right in front of him, several feet away from the open door, is a California king bed with a dark blue quilt covering it. The windows are covered by simple dark curtains pulled close over the windows.

 

Across the room, on the other side of the bed, is a white door. It could be a walk-in closet or an en-suite bathroom - Keith’s got no way of being sure. As he steps deeper into the room, he notes that on the same wall as the door, there’s a study desk flanked by two huge bookshelves. On the wall above the desk, there’s two posters - one depicting outer space and the other a series of jet planes flying in formation. They have a NASA and air force logo on them respectively.

 

“Wow,” Keith teases when he realizes the shelf nearest to the door is nothing but history and textbooks. “I always suspected you were a nerd but this is some next level shit.”

 

“I like history, what’s so nerdy about that?”

 

“Plenty.” Keith laughs, pausing to stare at the “Happy 4th Birthday!” card propped up in front of him. He points at the card and asks, “You keep all the cards you’ve ever gotten?”

 

Shiro snorts and shakes his head, “Not all of them. I got that one two years ago on my 16th birthday.”

 

“Why?” Keith asks, puzzled. “Wouldn’t a sweet 16 card make more sense?”

 

Tapping his chest, Shiro answers, “Leap year baby”

 

Keith makes a soft noise of understanding before turning back. He checks a couple of titles out before moving onward to the second bookshelf. His attention is immediately drawn to the books messily piled together in the bookshelf on the left of the table. 

 

Keith laughs when he notes all the comic omnibuses stuffed together before asking, “Marvel or DC?”

 

“Both. I’m an equal opportunity kind of guy.”

 

Keith’s heart almost jumps out of his heart at the easy statement, wondering if the same applies for  _ other _ things. He feels more than a little foolish for hoping that maybe.... _ maybe _ ...

 

His eyes are drawn to the line of crooked but colorful origami cranes perched on the third shelf. Keith glances over at Shiro, who has come to stand next to him. “You like origami?”

 

“Oh, no,” Shiro smiles gently as he picks up a small green paper crane, poking its bent beak. “They were a birthday gift from my baby cousin. She read somewhere that if you send someone a thousand paper cranes, they’ll be blessed with good fortune. But she got tired after ten or so.”

 

As Shiro laughs and puts the crane back in its place, Keith figures this is as good a time as any to give Shiro his gift. With his heart pounding nervously in his chest, Keith fishes the small red gift box out of his jacket pocket, and tosses it to Shiro with a casual, “Heads up.”

 

He grins a little when Shiro fumbles, almost dropping the box twice before clutching it with both hands. “What’s this?” Shiro asks, turning the box around.

 

“What’s it look like?” Keith asks with a laugh. “It’s your birthday present.”

 

Shiro’s eyes widen with happy surprise. Keith’s filled with the urge to do something incredibly stupid. Like take hold of Shiro’s face and see what happiness tastes like on Shiro’s lips. But instead he sticks his thumbs into his jeans pockets. 

 

“You didn’t have to.”

 

Keith shrugs, feeling a little uncomfortable at Shiro’s warm tone. “It’s nothing. It’s just...” 

 

His words trail off, not sure what to say. Thankfully, Shiro picks up the slack by excitedly asking, “Can I open it right now?”

 

Shrugging helplessly, Keith answers, “Sure. It’s nothing special though.”

 

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Shiro says even as he’s tugging the black ribbon off. The glossy thread falls to the floor as Shiro pulls the top open. Keith holds his breath, staring at Shiro’s face. He catalogues the surprise which turns into pure and simple awe. “Whoa.” Shiro breathes out, pulling the wooden keychain out. 

 

Self conscious to the point of uncomfortableness, Keith scuffs his toe against the carpet and mumbles, “It’s just a keychain.” 

 

Shiro shakes his head almost immediately, pulling the keychain out to admire the roaring lion head insignia. He holds the charm up by its golden ring, letting it twist in mid-air of its own gentle accord, “No way. This is  _ awesome _ . Where’d you get this?”

 

“I uh... I made it.”

 

His soft admission makes Shiro’s admiring gaze lock onto him. Keith feels heat suffuse his cheeks. “You never told me you could do this.”

 

Keith shrugs, not sure how to say it’s just woodwork. All he’d done was find a clear picture of the Shirogane’s house crest, print it out, etch it out onto a piece of wood, and cut away at it until it was done. Some finishing work and Keith had been done within a day. 

 

It’s honestly nothing special, least of all as special as Shiro is making it out to be.

 

“You can hide it or throw it away secretly if you want. It’s dumb, I know.” Keith finally mumbles, wanting to melt into the floor for some reason.

 

The feeling intensifies when Shiro’s hand wraps around his forearm, “No way! I love it! It’s the best present I’ve gotten so far.”

 

Weakly, Keith says, “That can’t be true.”

 

But Shiro shakes his head, resolute and firm, “It is. I’m actually going to use it too.”

 

“Do you even have keys?” 

 

Shiro laughs at the question, “No. But I’ll hook it on my bag or something. Just watch me.”

 

\--

 

Shiro just can’t get over Keith’s gift. It’s personal in a way so few of his gifts are. Most people tend to go over the top for his presents, aiming for ostentatious more than practicality. His parents, on the other hand, always try to give him a meaningful gift. Something that he can benefit from usually. His friends give him gag gifts, said gifts escalating in silliness as the years have passed.

 

But this is different. 

 

This is a simple but meaningful gift made just for him. How can he not appreciate it?

 

As he stares down at Keith’s open expression, Shiro can almost see the process Keith must have gone through to make this keychain. He’d probably worried what to give Shiro. He would have done some research before deciding on this. Keith must have given careful thought and consideration into each aspect of the gift, from the type of wood to use to what kind of finish to give. 

 

Shiro gives Keith’s forearm a quick squeeze before murmuring, “Thank you for this. I love it.”

 

He stares at the way Keith’s Adam’s apple bobs with his swallow. He can’t help but wonder if maybe he’s been overthinking things since that time on the soccer field. That maybe he didn’t need to wonder if he’s gay or bi or straight. Maybe Shiro needs to stop worrying so much about what label to apply to himself and think more about what he wants his next step to be.

 

_ I want to kiss him _ , his heart messages his brain promptly.  _ I want to kiss him, hold his hand some more. I want to date him properly _ .

 

Shiro feels a blush crawling up his neck at the thought, hurriedly letting go of Keith’s arm before turning towards the bookshelf under the guise of finding a temporary display spot for the keychain. As he wills his blush to go down, he rubs his thumb over the lion’s crooked fang, feels his heart swell with happiness. 

 

_ Keith made this for me _ .

 

He’s propping the lion’s head up against his battered copy of  _ Carrie _ , and thinking it doesn’t look good there, when Keith clears his throat softly. “I gotta say though,” he starts carefully, “This isn’t how I imagined your room.”

 

His first instinct is to flirtatiously ask how much Keith’s thought about his room but Shiro manages to shove  _ that  _ urge back into its box. It’s a struggle but Shiro somehow manages. The box rattles and shakes in protest even after Shiro’s thrown the lid down.

 

Turning around, lion’s head keychain gripped in his palm, Shiro grins and asks, “What’d you imagine it’d be like?”

 

“A lot fancier than this. And just... more lived in, I guess?” Keith shakes his head bemusedly, doing a slow turn on his heels as he takes the room and its sparse decorations. “I definitely thought you’d have some band posters and stuff up on the walls. But all you’ve got is the bed, the night stand, your desk, and your books. It’s seriously boring. Even your  _ wall paint _ is boring.”

 

“Gray is a versatile color that gives me a lot of options with my bedsheets,” Shiro retorts, sticking his nose up in the air.

 

He breaks down laughing when Keith mutters, “Whatever you say, Martha Stewart.” Keith doesn’t wait for him to stop laughing before asking, “But seriously. Why keep it so simple? You don’t even have a TV in here. I’d have thought you’d want to keep your Wii or Xbox in here.”

 

Shaking his head, Shiro takes a step closer to Keith. “I didn’t want them in here because I was worried I’d keep getting distracted. I wanted to keep my room simple,so I can just sleep or focus on my studies.”

 

The look Keith gives him says “Sounds fake but okay” but he doesn’t say anything. Shiro’s hand tightens around the keychain. What would be a good place to put it?

 

_ The nightstand _ , a soft voice urges from the back of his head.

 

Shiro’s moving before he realizes it, standing next to Keith as he gently props the three inch tall charm against the base of the steel lamp. He makes sure the lion’s head will remain upright before taking a step back.

 

_ Yeah. That looks good _ .

 

He glances over at Keith, whose eyes are locked onto the keychain. Keith’s stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets but Shiro can catch them clutching a little under the dark denim. Tension thrums around Keith like static electricity. 

 

Assuming that Keith’s feeling embarrassed by how much importance Shiro is giving his gift, he searches for another topic. Something safe. 

 

_ No. Something else. Something to prove to Keith that  _ he’s  _ important to me. Something that’ll be a step towards helping him see that I like him _ .

 

What can that be...

 

Shiro catches sight of Keith shifting his weight back on his left leg, head turning to peer across the room. And realizes,  _ Oh _ . The answer is right in front of him. 

 

“This is just  _ my _ space. The only people who ever come in here are me or my parents. So I figured, why bother putting in too much stuff. I tried that out in middle school and it was a pain. Once I started high school I wanted to keep it simple.”

 

He turns and gives Keith’s startled form a gentle smile, “You’re actually the first person outside of family who’s been in my room.”

 

Keith’s lips struggle to formulate words before he finally asks, “Not even Allura? Or John? You said they’re your oldest friends, right?”

 

“Not even them,” Shiro shakes his head. “Whenever they come over, we just hang out in the movie room. Or the game room. Or we go out. I mean, there’s nothing to see here, right? So why bring them here. All I do here is study or sleep.”

 

The other teen shakes his head, dark strands of hair kissing pink cheeks, “I don’t know. I mean, you’re standing here aren’t you. This is your  _ room _ . It’s where you spend the most of your time living.” Keith scrubs the back of his neck with his hand, laughing weakly, “I don’t know what I’m saying here. Sorry.” 

 

Keith may not know what he’s saying but Shiro suspects he’s got a fair inkling. It fuels the gentle fire of his hopes, encourages him to gently flirt back, “Well, I’ve never seen your room either. How do I know your room isn’t just like this and you’re just ragging on me?”

 

The other boy rolls his eyes even as he grins. “You can see my room on Monday if you want. You can take a peek and see that I’ve got more personality than you do.”

 

“That makes me feel so  _ special _ .” Shiro jokes.

 

Shaking his head, Keith takes a step closer to the night stand. He stares at the keychain for a moment before glancing over at the single hardbound book resting on the table. Keith’s fingers trace over the embossed title, smiling faintly when he reads it. “Big King fan huh?”

 

“I like a good horror story. But just stories.  _ Not _ movies. Movies give me nightmares.” 

 

“Watching horror movies gives you nightmares but  _ reading _ horror stories doesn’t?” Shiro shrugs helplessly. It is how it is. Keith snorts and mumbles, “Weirdo,” in the most affectionate of tones. He can’t help but take it as a compliment.

 

Shiro’s about to ask what kind of books Keith likes reading when the teen suddenly looks up at him. “Wait, if all you do is sleep and study here, then do you do all your making out in other rooms?”

 

_ Where the hell did  _ that  _ come from?  _ Shiro wonders wildly, scrubbing a hand through his hair with a sheepish laugh. “Uuuhh well. The one time I made out with someone... it was at her place. So, I guess you could say-”

 

“ _ The one time _ ?” Keith’s voice rises up in disbelief. “You’re not telling me you’ve only ever made out with one person, right?”

 

“Just one person and just once.”

 

Keith shakes his head, “I don’t believe it.”

 

“It’s true,” Shiro laughs at the memory, moving to sit on his bed. “It was years ago when I was visiting Allura for the summer. We were 13 I think and curious about what kissing felt like. And neither of us had ever kissed anyone so we just thought, hey let’s experiment.”

 

He watches Keith carefully take a seat next to him, sitting at the very edge of the bed like he’s scared he might rumple the sheets. “That’s so weird. I kinda thought you’d have a lot more experience with that kinda stuff.”

 

Leaning back on both hands, Shiro snorts, “Nah. Allura’s the only one I made out with.  _ And  _ we were kinda drunk when we did it too.”

 

“No way,” Keith laughs, turning his body to face Shiro. “Did you guys break into the wine cellar or something?”

 

“More like we snuck out one of her dad’s decanters from his liquor cabinet,” Shiro grins at the chuckles his story is pulling out of Keith. “We got drunk on good whiskey, started bitching about how much it sucks not having normal lives because we’re a prince and a princess. Which somehow turned into bitching over how hard it is to find someone who likes you for  _ you  _ and not because... you know,  _ you’re royalty _ .

 

So that led to us complaining about how we’re almost 14 and still haven’t kissed anyone. And I  _ think  _ it was Allura who suggested we could try kissing each other? I honestly don’t remember. But we kissed a bit and it was  _ so _ weird.”

 

“Weird how?” Keith’s placed his knee up on the bed now, looking very much at home in his room. A splash of red and black in his otherwise gray tinted room. If that’s not an apt metaphor for Keith himself, Shiro’ll eat a hat. 

 

Turning to face Keith, his own leg pressing into the sheets, Shiro answers, “It was just...  _ weird _ . I mean. It wasn’t bad I guess. But we both were totally confused why kissing was such a big deal when we didn’t really feel anything after doing it. I guess it was because we weren’t into each other.”

 

As Keith nods, Shiro’s taken back to that warm summer night. He remembers frowning at Allura, asking her that maybe they were kissing each other wrong. Then Allura had hiccuped something in the line of “You’re very handsome but it’s just not meant to be.” Shiro had found that hilarious for some reason and had fallen back on his best friend’s bed laughing.

 

“We got into  _ so  _ much trouble after her dad found out we’d gotten drunk,” Shiro snickers at the memory. In hindsight, the giant hangover and scolding is a lot funnier. In that moment, he’d wanted to  _ die _ as King Alfor had lectured the pair of them. 

 

“This is the exact opposite of what I expected.”

 

Curiously, Shiro leans forward and asks, “What  _ did  _ you imagine?”

 

“I dunno,” Keith shrugs. “Crazy stories like.. Spending the summer in Ibiza with models-type of stories.”

 

There’s no stopping his laughter from bubbling out at that mental image. In fact, Shiro can’t wait to tell the others this so that they can laugh as well. “ _ No _ . It was more like summering in Rome, going through all the museums day by day in between political events.”

 

“Nerd.”

 

Shiro’s heart skips a beat as Keith shifts forward an inch, making their knees press against each other. Thankfully, his voice remains steady as he continues, “A couple of summers ago, dad thought it’d be good if I went to some weird snooty camp in the alps. Or mom keeps telling me I need to learn more languages, so my summer has even  _ more  _ studying involved.”

 

“And what’s the plan for  _ this _ year? Summer’s just a couple of months away.”

 

\--

 

It’s an innocuous question meant more to satiate his curiosity more than anything else. He asks it under the expectation that Shiro’s answer will be short and simple. More of what he’s just shared. That he’ll be attending a summer camp or learning a new language. Nothing special.

 

But instead, Shiro’s eyes light up with excitement. He immediately starts  _ gushing _ over how his parents will finally let him take some flying lessons. The animated way he talks about it makes Keith smile in amused surprise. This is a side of Shiro’s he’s  _ never  _ seen before. And here he’d thought that Shiro was at his peak cuteness when he was passionately talking about history.

 

Keith’s not entirely sure how long Shiro chatters away but it’s a fair while. So much so that, when it hits Shiro, he immediately turns red. “Sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly. “That makes me sound really spoiled doesn’t it? I shouldn’t... I didn’t mean to brag, I’m sorry.”

 

Cheek in his palm, elbow on his knee, Keith smiles and shakes his head, “I didn’t think you were bragging. I was just thinking about how excited you get when you’re talking about some really nerdy shit.”

 

His fingers itch with the desire to reach out and touch Shiro when he grins and rubs his nose scar with a crooked finger, “Heh yeah. I’ve actually wanted to fly planes since I was like... a  _ baby _ . If you ask mom, she’ll tell you about this toy plane I had that I’d never let go of. Other kids would go to bed with their favorite teddy bear and then there was me. I wouldn’t sleep until I had that jet in my hand.”

 

Keith eyes the two posters above the desk and hums, “Maybe for your next birthday I should get you some glow in the dark stars. You could stick them up on the ceiling.”

 

He means it as a complete joke. But when he glances over at Shiro and sees the actual delight in his eyes, Keith cracks up. He bends over in half, clutching his stomach when Shiro sheepishly admits, “I’ll actually really love that.”

 

Keith reaches over to slap Shiro’s knee, talking in between his chuckles, “Consider it a done deal.”

 

“I was  _ kidding _ ! Seriously, don’t spend money on me please.”

 

“Too late. You’re getting glow in the dark stars with a star constellation map.”

 

Shiro groans, “Keith...”

 

Teasing away, Keith continues, “I’ve already bought them in my head. They’re coming your way.”

 

Shiro’s hand lands on top of his, trapping it against soft  denim. Keith starts gently, having forgotten where his hand had been situated. There’s a distinctly flirty undertone to Shiro’s voice when he asks, “Are you going to help me put them up too?”

 

When he wets his dry lips with the tip of his tongue, Keith catches Shiro’s eyes darting down to follow the motion. “That costs extra. I charge for that service.”

 

There’s no denying the fact that Shiro is shifting close. He’s closing the gap between them when he asks, “How much?”

 

Some part of Keith starts to shake, trembling hard when Shiro’s free hand comes to rest on top of his knee. Keith’s brain is shutting down, too overwhelmed. It’s all he can do it hold Shiro’s gaze and shrug because he doesn’t know. 

 

And Shiro continues to lean in, until their faces are inches apart, “Maybe a proper kiss?”

 

“Now, Prince,” Keith murmurs huskily, skin prickling, “I know you’ve kissed  _ just  _ one person before. A detail I will cherish till I die, just FYI.” Shiro’s amused huff skates past Keith’s right cheek, causing him to shiver and his voice to lower. “So maybe, you should think about this a little.”

 

He’s giving Shiro an out and a warning at the same time. Keith expects the other boy to pull back. To blink and realize what he’s doing. Bluster and maybe apologize and ask if Keith wants to go back to the others.

 

But Shiro defies his expectations by murmuring, “I’ve thought about it. A lot.” 

 

“Oh.”

 

Keith feels dumb as Shiro’s hand leaves his. The back of his hand feels so cold in response. But at the same time, his cheek feels hot as the sun when Shiro’s palm relocates to his face. His hand moves to touch Shiro’s elbow, mind spinning in disbelief and anticipation as Shiro murmurs again, “I’ve thought about it a lot.”

 

“In that case, a proper kiss pays for the glow in the dark stars and the installation fe-”

 

The rest of his sentence dies on the tip of his tongue as Shiro presses their lips together. Keith’s heart falters in the middle of its frantic pace. Reflex draws his eyes closed and desire keeps them shut. His fingers tighten against Shiro’s skin, tempted to deepen the kiss but  _ wanting _ to keep it chaste. But his mouth falls open of its own accord when Shiro’s palm sweeps into his hair. 

 

Shiro pulls away almost immediately and Keith follows. The gentle, amused sound Shiro lets out makes Keith open his eyes. He feels more grounded but also dizzier than he’s ever felt in his life while staring into Shiro’s gray eyes. Keith’s head feels like it’s floating off his head while his legs have become one with the floor.

 

“We should go back,” Shiro finally says, still maintaining eye contact. 

 

Keith nods, remembering to breathe only when Shiro pulls away. He rubs the back of his hand against a hot cheek, unable to believe that  _ just happened _ . And then Shiro holds his hand out, palm out. Keith takes the proffered hand, linking their fingers together as they leave the room.

 

While the way up to Shiro’s room had been long and scenic, the way back seems to be longer. But this time, Shiro doesn’t offer much in terms of commentary. There’s a couple of stories here and there, all told to Keith in a soft murmur and close proximity. His brain spins round and round on the hamster wheel, wondering if he’s stuck in a happy dream.

 

But then reality comes crashing when one of the guards comes clomping up the stairs, prompting Shiro to take his hand back. It’s the equivalent of a bucket of cold water being dropped on his head, bucket and all.

 

“Your Highness,” the man greets in a heavily accented voice, pausing mid-step to bow. 

 

Shiro smiles back weakly, waiting for the man to pass before turning to Keith. But before he can say anything, Keith resumes descending the large staircase. “Left from here, right?”

 

He doesn’t look back but the small pause between his question and Shiro’s hurt, “Yeah,” speaks volumes. 

 

_ I can’t do this _ , Keith thinks to himself as they finally enter the hallway leading to the movie room. He’s done this once where he dated a guy who wanted to hide their relationship. Keith had  _ sworn  _ to himself that he’d never do that again.

 

And as much as he likes Shiro, Keith’s not going to make an exception for him.

 

So he pulls his phone out, makes an excuse that it’s getting late and he needs to be getting back to the dorm before curfew. Pretends he’s not affected by the hurt look in Shiro’s eyes, says goodbye to everyone else, and walks out of the palace feeling more than a little hollow.


	6. Chapter 6

Three days later, when he’s in the middle of getting his ass beat at  _ Dance Central _ , Allura asks, “So what’s up with you and Keith? I wasn’t just imagining all the looks you two were sharing, right?”

 

From the couch, Shay sighs, “Allura.”

 

“I only ask because you’ve been really mopey since your party,” Allura says, hands on her hips, observing Shiro, who is listlessly flipping through the song list wondering if there’s a song suitable enough to take Allura’s scrutiny off him. “Ever since you and Keith came back from your tour, you’ve been acting like someone kicked your puppy. Did something happen when you...”

 

Shiro stares moodily at the song selection screen, debating between telling the girls the truth or not before giving up with a sigh. He may as well. He’s been rolling the last half of his birthday party over and over again in his head for days now and Shiro  _ still _ hasn’t managed to figure out how he messed things up.

 

“I kissed Keith,” he finally admits, swiping his hand before the console to pull out of the menu. Shiro’s got the feeling they’re not going to be playing for a while.

 

Allura immediately yells, “ _ What _ ?” while Shay sits up, big brown eyes widening. “ _ When _ ?” 

 

“In my room. Before we came downstairs.”

 

Waving a hand for him to stop, Allura says, “Stop, stop. Okay, you need to start from the beginning. Tell us everything.”

 

Shiro obliges and delves into the details of what happened after he and Keith had left the others. He tells the pair about how he’d taken hold of Keith’s hand, Keith’s gift, their talk, and the kiss. Shiro graduates from standing in the middle of the game room to be pulled down on the sofa between the two girls, voice deepening in misery by the time he gets to the end of his tale.

 

“Then he said that he had to go and just. Left.” Shiro finishes, running a hand through his hair. “Since then, he’s been kind of avoiding me at school.”

 

As she gently strokes his back, Shay asks, “What do you mean  _ kind of _ ?”

 

Shrugging, Shiro explains, “Like. He’ll be there when we’re all there but he’ll make up all kinds of excuses to avoid meeting me. Before we used to hang out after school and play some soccer. But now he’ll tell me that he’s got work to do at the library, or run errands, or do homework. It’s just. He’s made it pretty clear he doesn’t want us to hang out.”

 

He stares at his hands, remembering how sturdy Keith’s wrist had felt against his palm. Shiro clenches his fist, wanting to hold onto that sensation a little while longer. Sighing, he presses his fist against his forehead and mumbles, “It would help if I could just figure out what I did wrong you know?”

 

“I think...” Shay begins hesitantly, looking over at Allura before starting again, “I think I may know why.”

 

Shiro stares hopefully at his friend, asking, “Yeah?”

 

The girl nods, frizzy hair bouncing slightly. “You said that you guys were holding hands when coming downstairs right?” Shiro nods. “And you let go of Keith’s hand when going downstairs? Then when you tried to take it back, Keith just walked away? And then he left?” Again, Shiro nods. “I think that may be why he’s mad at you.”

 

Confused, Shiro asks, “He was mad that I didn’t hold his hand back?”

 

Allura lightly slaps the back of his head, “He may be mad you let  _ go  _ of his hand. Why do that anyways? Did you trip or anything?”

 

“No,” Shiro shakes his head. “One of the guards was going up when we were coming down. So I let go of Keith. As soon as Clark was gone, I tried to...” He gestures vaguely before shaking his head. “But Keith was already pissed at me I think.”

 

Shay’s hand is a comforting weight against his back as she muses, “And he’s been avoiding you since then so you haven’t been able to explain why you let go of his hand, right?”

 

After Shiro nods, Allura says, “You just need to create an opportunity where you guys can talk. Corner him or something similar.”

 

“Or,” Shay gently suggests. “You could just tell him you want to talk to him. Tell him you want to explain your side. If he’s someone who values the truth, I think he’ll hear you out when you tell him that.”

 

“You think so?” Shiro asks her, wanting to hope for the best. 

 

Shay nods, patting his back. “Absolutely. You won’t know till you try.” Her gentle expression turns into wry amusement. “And if he still doesn’t want to listen?  _ Then  _ you can try cornering him.”

 

“Or you could explain your side in a letter!” Allura exclaims, eyes bright with excitement. “That would be romantic, wouldn’t it? Or  _ oooh _ ! A video message! A personalized video message explaining your side of the story.”

 

As Allura’s ideas grow increasingly ludicrous, Shiro finds the gloom that’s been haunting him finally start to lift. As Shay joins in, explaining an intensely elaborate and ridiculous ploy to get Keith in the same room as himself, which for some reason involves a bunch of chickens, Shiro finds himself laughing for the first time in days.

 

By the time the girls are done, Shiro snorting with laughter and hiding his mirthful tears with a hand. He’s still giggling into the pillow to hide the worst of his embarrassing noises when Allura gently asks, “Feeling better?”

 

He straightens up with the pillow in his lap and a grateful grin on his face, “Yeah.” Shiro exhales, hugging the girls against his side in a quick hug. “Thanks, guys.”

 

“Anytime,” Shay hugs him back.

 

Allura gently punches his arm, “What would you do without us?”

 

“Be completely and utterly lost,” Shiro answers, only half joking. 

 

“So you’ll talk to him now? Tell him why you did what you did?” Shay asks. 

 

Shiro nods, “First chance I get.”

 

\--

 

As it so happens, and this is a complete coincidence and not a result of Shiro trying to delay the inevitable and uncomfortable conversation, it takes another few days before Shiro manages to catch Keith unawares.

 

In between a couple of rushed projects, tests, and royal duties, Shiro leaves campus early for several days in a row. It’s in the week that follows that he finally gets the chance to search Keith out. 

 

Shiro approaches him in the hallway, in between classes. “Hey.”

 

Keith barely glances up from his seat, Biology book in between his crossed knees, “Hey.”

 

“Bio test?” Shiro asks, crouching down to him. 

 

“Mm, next class. Thought I’d cram one last revision in before I went in.” Keith’s holding a highlighter in hand, tapping either end slowly against the pages as he reads. The tapping stops less than a minute later as Shiro continues to sit there, gathering his courage to ask Keith for a chance.

 

He realizes he doesn’t need courage as much as he just needs Keith. Shiro’s missed his presence  _ painfully _ in the last few days. It’s the same sense of loss which tints his voice with blue desperation when he asks, “Are you free after classes today? I wanted to talk to you about what happened on my birthday.”

 

And just like that, Keith shuts down on him. Shiro can  _ see  _ it happening. What little emotion there had been in Keith’s eyes, it just disappears. Snuffed out like a flame. “There’s nothing to talk about,” Keith answers, short and brisk.

 

“There kinda is. I... I need to tell you why I did what I did.”

 

“Curiosity, I imagine,” Keith answers for him.

 

Shiro shakes his head. He leans in, pitching his voice low when saying, “I’m not talking about the kiss. I meant what happened afterwards. On the stairs. I need to tell you why I let go of your hand.”

 

There’s a sharpness to Keith’s eyes when he looks at Shiro at that. It reminds Shiro of the time his dad cut the ball of his thumb when trying to replace a blade in his old shaving razor. He just knows that if Keith opens his mouth, he’s going to say something so cutting, Shiro will bleed for days.

 

So he cuts Keith off, taking a chance and reaching out to touch his wrist gently and pleading, “Please. Just give me a chance. You don’t have to but...  _ please _ ?”

 

Shiro can see the struggle going on inside Keith and hopes the scales will fall in his favor. He can only beg with his touch and expression and hope. Relief fills him when Keith exhales noisily, clearly annoyed. “Just one chance. And if it’s a stupid explanation I’m walking out.” Keith warns.

 

He nods, utterly relieved. “Okay. After class?”

 

“On the soccer field,” Keith tells him, taking his hand back so he can flip the page. “Now shoo. I need to finish revising this shit. Mr. Daniel always uses the tiniest details in his quizzes to mess us up.”

 

“Good luck,” Shiro wishes him, hopping up to his feet and pulling his phone out to count the hours and minutes down.

 

It’s exactly 5 hours and 17 minutes later that Keith shows up on the field. He looks like the picture of nonchalance with his open, untucked shirt, lazy gait, and bag hanging dangerously low on his shoulder. But Keith makes no effort to readjust the strap, content instead to keep his hands tucked away inside his pant pockets.

 

Shiro sits up straight on the side bench, watching Keith catch sight of him before trudging down the sidelines. He smiles faintly when Keith halts in front of him, maintaining his pose. From up close, it’s easy to read the tension Keith’s carrying on him. There’s nothing cool or composed about him at this distance.

 

“So,” Keith begins coolly. “You wanted to talk?”

 

“Yeah. Do you want to sit?” Shiro presses his palm down on the empty spot next to him on the bench. 

 

But Keith shakes his head, finally pushing his bag strap higher up on his shoulder. “I’ll stand.” 

 

_ It’s okay. You knew he may he hostile about this. _ Shiro tells himself before taking a bracing breath. He clenches his hands together before beginning, “I want to make one thing clear. I’ve liked you for a while and I wanted to kiss you because of that. I don’t regret doing that.”

 

Keith immediately snorts, “Could have fooled me.”

 

The bitterness in his tone has Shiro’s gaze dropping in shame. He exhales tiredly, tightening his grip on his own fingers before beginning, “I  _ had _ to let go of your hand. I couldn’t...  _ didn’t _ want the guard to see us.”

 

“Because you were ashamed.”

 

“ _ No _ ,” Shiro denies vehemently, meeting Keith’s angry gaze dead on. “It’s because I can’t do  _ anything  _ without it getting back to my parents. My life is... it’s complicated. And I want to keep you...  _ us _ as uncomplicated as possible.”

 

His words spark a curious light in Keith’s dark eyes. It gentles the anger on his handsome face when he asks, “What do you mean by that?”

 

Shiro scrubs a hand down his face, holding his chin before exhaling, “My life is...  _ weird _ . Like. There was this time when I was five. Maybe six. I got it into my head that I wanted to learn how to play the piano. There was some song I really liked and I wanted to learn how to play it. It was that simple.

 

I had a tutor who knew how to play the piano. Not professionally or anything. Just as a hobby, you know? So I asked her to teach me. I  _ begged _ my attendant not to tell my parents. I didn’t want it turning into a  _ thing _ . I just. I just wanted to have something I could enjoy without...”

 

He lowers his gaze down to his white knuckles and forces himself to relax his grip. Swallowing, Shiro continues, “But they  _ did _ find out. Someone blabbed and next thing I know the piano’s being replaced, I’m getting some piano teacher from freaking  _ Russia _ , and the royal photographer’s coming to take pictures of me playing the damn thing. It turned into this... theater show where I’d get dressed up and sat down in front of the piano and made to... act. It turned into a circus.”

 

Keith’s boots rustle against the astroturf as he steps forward, takes the empty seat on the bench. Shiro holds his breath, listening to the slow inhale-exhale coming from Keith, and fails to find the strength to raise his head and see Keith’s reaction.

 

“You’re sure you didn’t do that because of the whole gay thing?”

 

Shiro is quick to shake his head, finally raising his head to stare across the field. “I’m not ashamed about that. It’s not even forbidden.” He exhales a weak chuckle. “My parents gave me this whole talk when I started high school about how it’s a new century and how they’re working on making our country safe for LGBTA+ people. They said that if i was ever curious or if I was gay or anything, they’d never have a problem with it.”

 

He takes a deep breath before turning to look at Keith, because it’s important that Shiro say this to Keith. As much as it saps the strength out of him, Shiro understands that for Keith to believe him, he needs to be looking into the other teens eyes while saying his next words.

 

“So no. It’s not because of the gay thing. I’m not ashamed of who I am. It’s not something I’m scared of. And it  _ definitely _ won’t be a national scandal if word got out about us.”

 

Keith tilts his head, eyes bright with curiosity. “ _ Are _ you gay? Is that...”

 

That’s the big question Shiro’s been trying to find an answer for for ages. And he’s still no closer to it than he’d been the first time he’d thought he wanted to kiss Keith.  _ Honesty,  _ Shiro reminds himself.  _ Be honest. That’s what Keith values _ .

 

Rubbing his sweaty palms against his pants legs, Shiro answers, “I don’t know. I just. All I know is that I like you. That’s the one thing I’m sure about.”

 

There it is. 

 

His feelings finally out in the open. It’s scarier than anything Shiro has experienced to date, including the time he’d brought a piss poor report card home in his second year of middle school. He wants to throw up and pass out in equal parts, anything to stop the anxious twisting of his stomach. 

 

As Shiro prays for release, Keith peers at him, gaze steady and thoughtful. As the seconds pass, Keith’s silence stretching out, Shiro’s hopes plummet to the ground. He chides himself that it was foolish to hope. That he’d spoiled things the second he’d let go of Keith’s hand and waited to explain himself.

 

_ Maybe if I’d told him that night, then maybe... _

 

Shiro blinks when Keith finally blinks and nods, “Okay.”

 

“Okay?” Shiro parrots back, soft and confused.

 

“That works.” Keith nods again, like he’s confirming something to himself. He shifts closer to peck Shiro’s cool cheek, “Thanks for telling me.”

 

Baffled by the delightful turn to events, Shiro raises his hand up to touch his cheek while staring at Keith, who is smiling softly at him, leaning back on his arms as he stretches his legs out in front of him.

 

“So... did we just start dating?” Keith asks. “Is that what happened?”

 

Shiro scrambles to catch up, emotional whiplash causing him to take a couple of seconds to figure out the answer, “I... uhhh...”

 

“‘Cause,” Keith drawls with the tiniest of smirks playing on his lips, “I don’t remember being asked that.”

 

It finally starts to sink in that everything’s okay.  _ More _ than okay. The grin that pulls his lips up feels too wide, too foolish,  _ too happy _ . His body thrums with excitement, with delight as he moves to straddle the bench and pull himself closer to Keith. “I’m asking now. Will you date me? Royal drama and all?”

 

Keith hums, pretending to think about it for so long that Shiro groan-laughs, “You’re  _ terrible _ .”

 

“You like it,” Keith shoots back immediately, rolling his head to grin at Shiro. “And yeah. I’d like that.”

 

With a happy noise, Shiro reaches out to take hold of Keith’s face and presses a firm, shy kiss to his smile. It feels like the sun rising, warm rays of heat melting away the night frost and coaxing the flowers to unfurl their petals. It’s happiness unlike anything Shiro has felt before.

 

“You’re definitely going to have to meet my parents now,” Shiro murmurs when they pull apart, thumbs stroking lines into Keith’s pink cheeks. 

 

He laughs, letting out all his worries, relief, and happiness, when Keith groans pitifully, “I can’t just skip that, can I?”

 

“Sorry, that’s part of the deal of dating me.” 

 

“Sure we can’t negotiate for better terms?” Keith asks, half-teasing and half-pleading.

 

With a flirty quirk of an eyebrow, Shiro answers, “Depends on what you have to offer.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Keith grins as they both abandon their homework in favor of making out. They move as one, shoving their notebooks aside to grab at each other. Their lips meet halfway, bodies shifting until Keith’s straddling Shiro. It’s a bit of a tight fit on his dorm bed but it allows for greater proximity, which is always a good thing.

 

He sighs against Shiro’s tongue, melting a little at the touch, “Shiro...”

 

They haven’t been dating long but Shiro’s gotten  _ so good _ at this part. He’s learned how to kiss, and how Keith likes to be kissed, with rapid speed. Now, he knows  _ exactly  _ what to do to have Keith melting into him. 

 

But the only time they can do this, make out to their heart's desire, is when they’re alone. Which isn’t often. A part of Keith is still not wholly comfortable with keeping their relationship secret, but he understands why they have to. 

 

On campus, there’s not much of a change in their relationship after they start dating. 

 

They hang out with their friends during whatever spare time they have, meet up for study dates in the library, and kick the ball around on the soccer field once the club has left. Shiro still catches him in headlocks and ruffles his hair when he deems Keith to be acting like a “smartass.” And Keith still punches Shiro in the arm when he’s being a “pompous little prince.” Shiro drapes himself over Keith’s back after a test gone bad and Keith continues his quest to sneak up on Shiro and give him a thorough wet-willy. 

 

But there’s still  _ some  _ differences.

 

Shiro is more touchy feely than before. He touches Keith’s shoulder in greeting. His fingertips find the crook of Keith’s bare elbow (God bless their summer uniform) when he wants Keith’s attention. His foot rests comfortably against Keith’s under the table as they study. His grip on Keith’s arm is firm when he pulls the other boy’s laughing form into a supply closet. 

 

Of course it helps that Shiro’s okay with telling their friends the truth. Whose reactions have ranged from “I knew it, I knew this day would come.” (Hunk) to “I’m so happy for you!” (Allura and Shay), and “About damn time” (Pidge), to “When the  _ hell _ did  _ this _ happen?” (Lance). It’s nice to have opportunities where he can give into the urge and hold Shiro’s hand. Or to be pulled close to Shiro and have his cheek kissed while their friends tease and throw popcorn at their heads, demanding they not indulge in PDA.

 

Coming out to their friends is one thing. Telling Shiro’s parents that they’re dating is another. And even though Shiro has said he  _ will  _ eventually tell his parents about them, Keith can’t help but worry again. Can’t help but be concerned.

 

Just thinking about it is making him stress out.

 

“Babe?” The pet name has Keith curling his fingers into Shiro’s shirt. Shiro’s flushed face peers down at him, fringe tickling Keith’s nose, “Still with me?”

 

Keith nods shyly, a little embarrassed at having been caught zoning out, “Yeah. Sorry.”

 

“What happened? You went from being here to being on Pluto.” Shiro’s hands sweep up his sides, rucking his tee and white dress shirt up along the way. “What were you thinking about?”

 

Using his next exhale as cover, Keith frantically wonders if he ought to tell the truth or not. He doesn’t want to upset Shiro. But he also would like a concrete answer on the matter. Keith would like a proper answer instead of a vague one.

 

“I was wondering when you were going to tell your parents that we’re dating.”

 

He stiffens before he’s even done, expecting Shiro’s reaction to either be an echo of his old answer, or to pull away with a frustrated sigh. It will either be more excuses or annoyance.

 

Instead, Shiro’s reassurance is immediate and gentle. “Soon. I promise. They’ll be back home in a couple more days and then I’ll tell them.”

 

That’s...

 

Keith blinks up in surprise, mouth moving faster than his brain, “Back home? Did they go away somewhere?”

 

“Yeah, they went on a trip to Australia, Indonesia, Korea, that whole side of the world. It’s supposed to take like, 10 weeks. I didn’t tell you they left?” When Keith shakes his head, Shiro rolls over to lie down on his side, legs still tangled with Keith’s. “Well. They left before we started dating. And I don’t want to tell them we’re dating on the phone or through email.”

 

With an understanding noise, Keith props himself up on his elbow as well, facing Shiro when he asks, “When are they coming back?”

 

“Saturday,” Shiro drops his free hand on Keith’s waist. Right above the two inches of skin peeking between Keith’s pants and his pushed up shirts. The touch makes tingles race up and down Keith’s spine. “And I was thinking...”

 

“Always dangerous.”

 

Shiro chuckles, pushing his leg higher in between Keith’s, “I was  _ thinking _ you should come over on Friday. For a movie date. We could finish watching the  _ Godfather _ trilogy, get some take out. Or I could ask the chef to make us something.”

 

“That sounds  _ really _ tempting. But why do I get the feeling you’ve got more ulterior motive. Like say,” Keith grins, “making out with me some more?”

 

“Well that’s  _ always  _ an ulterior motive when we’re alone. Like right now,” Shiro leans forward until they’re nose to nose, the tips almost brushing. “I definitely came up here to push you down and kiss you until my lips hurt.”

 

With a breathless, happy laugh, Keith asks, “Why aren’t you doing that right now?”

 

“I was until you started asking questions.”

 

“My bad,” Keith immediately drops back down and brings Shiro down with him. He grins at the surprised “oof” Shiro makes before asking, “Better?”

 

“But the homework...”

 

It’s a weak defense, one they make at least once in the middle of making out with each other. Like an obligation that needs stating even though they both know neither of them are going to act on it. Not by the time it’s brought up. 

 

But it assuages both their guilt over avoiding their responsibilities. However, making out with each other is just so much  _ nicer _ than struggling with maths problems.

 

So Keith hums, cups Shiro’s face with both hands and murmurs, “Fuck it.”

 

They’ve  _ barely _ gotten back into it when Shiro’s phone begins to ring. With matching groans, they pull apart. Keith remains lying on his bed, watching Shiro walk up to Keith’s desk to retrieve his phone and ask, “Hello? Mark?”

 

_ He looks good here _ , Keith thinks to himself, hiding his smile into his palm as Shiro frowns faintly at the curtains. Keith’s room is one of the few singles available in the dorms, meaning it’s just barely big enough to fit a study desk, bed, and closet in. Add two people in and it starts to feel vague claustrophobic.

 

But here’s Shiro, looking larger than life and perfectly at home in the middle of his room. He looks a step away from raunchy given the way his dress shirt is half open, showing off the score of new and healing hickies Keith’s left across Shiro’s collarbone. And there’s his messy hair and flushed face. Shiro’s lips are kiss-swollen and bruised, thanks to the attention Keith’s lavished on them with his teeth. 

 

Debauched is a look Shiro wears  _ well _ . 

 

“Okay,” Shiro is saying, trying to button his shirt up with his free hand. Trying being the operative word. Keith stifles a laugh and stands to help his boyfriend out. “How long? ‘Kay. Just honk when you’re here. Yeah. Bye.”

 

As he takes over the duty from Shiro’s hands, Keith tugs the other teen’s shirt back into place before shoving the buttons through their holes, asking, “Your car’s almost here?”

 

Shiro nods, sweeping a hand through his hair in a poor effort to smoothen the kinks out, “Yeah. Should be here in five minutes.” 

 

Just enough time to help put Shiro back together again. Keith’s pushing his tie up to its usual position when Shiro asks, his hands warm on Keith’s hips, “You’ll come on Friday? I was serious about that movie date.”

 

“Are the others gonna be there too?” That’s how it’s been so far. Whenever Keith has visited the Silver Palace, it’s been all of them. More of a group hangout rather than a date. 

 

His heart races with excitement when Shiro murmurs, “No. It’s just gonna be us.”

 

Keith smiles at the windsor knot before nodding, blinking up at Shiro, “I’ll be there.”

 

“Great,” Shiro sighs happily, using his grip to pull Keith a step closer for a sweet kiss that’s dangerously close to pushing them back on the bed. In fact, Keith’s already taking a step back, taking Shiro along with him, when they hear two sharp car honks from outside.

 

They break apart reluctantly, breathing heavily while staring at each other. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Keith sighs, stealing one last peck before letting his hands drag down Shiro’s shoulders and arms, already missing the feeling of him against his chest.

 

There’s a similar sentiment shining in Shiro’s eyes as he takes a step back, smiling softly, “Yeah. I’ll see you then.”

 

As Shiro grabs his bag, Keith reaches across his bed for Shiro’s books. As he hands them over, Keith wants  _ so badly _ to pull Shiro back to bed and keep him there. They’ve been taking it slow, a mutually agreed upon sentiment Keith is savoring and loathing in equal parts. So far, the most they’ve done is grab each others asses while making out a lot. Nothing more than that. 

 

And Keith would very much like more than an hour to learn more about Shiro. Keith wants to take Shiro’s shirt off all the way, kiss his way down his chest, and just have his wicked way with his boyfriend. But there’s no way to get more than 60 minutes alone with Shiro, not when they’re on campus. And even then, 60 minutes is a generous and rare occurrence. Typically all their makeout sessions have lasted in the general vicinity of 20 minutes.

 

_ Hopefully we’ll get to do more on Friday _ , Keith thinks to himself, moving to pull the curtains back. He stands by the window, watching and waiting for Shiro’s car to roll out of the dorm driveway.

 

\--

 

Keith has always liked it when his partner covers him. There’s something comforting about it, especially when he’s making out with another guy. The weight of their body against his own feels...  _ good _ . And with Shiro, with his broad shoulders and warm hands, it feels twice as good because there’s something about him that makes Keith melt back, entire body singing  _ safe, happy, secure _ while Shiro sucks kisses into his skin.

 

Right now, he’s being pressed down into the sofa, Marlon Brando talking in the background. Keith’s hands are under Shiro’s tee, running over the bumps and curve of Shiro’s spine, while Shiro is intent on sucking a monster hickey on Keith’s neck.

 

“You sure you’re not a vampire,” Keith asks breathlessly, chuckling faintly when he feels Shiro’s hands squeeze his hips.

 

“That,” Shiro breathes against his ear, the husky timbre causing Keith to tremble and bite down on a moan, “is what I should be asking you. Do you even know how many hickies you left on me?”

 

“I never count.”

 

“ _ Fourteen _ ,” Shiro’s reproach is softened by the playful bite he gives Keith’s earlobe. The moan falls out, Keith’s palms roaming up to touch Shiro’s shoulder blades. “And that’s not counting the ones that were this close to fading.”

 

There’s plenty he could say to that. Keith’s got a little bit of a possessive streak. Shiro’s got skin that makes red and purple hickies stand out so prettily. Keith’s so hungry and desperate for Shiro that there’s no stopping him once he gets started.

 

But instead, Keith deems it the better choice to use his hands, and a plaintive, “Shiro...” to make his boyfriend look up. Then, he captures Shiro’s lips in a heated kiss and uses it to pull him back down. They’ve talked more than enough. What Keith wants, no,  _ needs _ now is to get Shiro in between his raised knees. And somehow get him to start grinding a little because all he needs is a little bit of pressure and Keith can just-

 

Keith gasps, fingers clutching at Shiro’s shirt when their hips align. His eyes fly open, staring wondrously into Shiro’s pleasure twisted expression. Keith breathes in the soft whimper Shiro lets out as Keith’s hips buck up, lets it spark a flame in the pit of his stomach that is sure to engulf them both.

 

His hands go straight for Shiro’s ass, squeezing the muscles there before using his touch to guide his boyfriend. Keith sighs when their dicks grind together so  _ good _ , eyes fluttering shut as Shiro finally gets the hang of the rhythm. He feels good against Keith.  _ Thick _ . 

 

Keith’s brain spins, imagining sliding his hands under Shiro’s jeans to touch his ass without anything between them. Wonders what Shiro’s dick looks like, how it’ll feel like against his hand. How it’ll feel against his dick when they’re both naked. 

 

Body moving on its own, Keith forces Shiro to move until he’s lying on his back on the sofa. His dazed expression and strong jaw are highlighted by the movie playing on the screen. Keith fleetingly thinks he’d have liked to see Shiro’s face in a bright-lit room, but this is good too. Making out in a dark room with nothing but the large TV lighting the room up. 

 

Keith pushes himself up on his knees, arching his back as he yanks his t-shirt off. For a moment, he stays in place, soft cotton hitting the floor soundlessly. Keith shivers, eyes fluttering when Shiro’s hands tighten on his hips.  _ God,  _ Keith thinks wildly,  _ he’s so strong _ . Keith knows  _ exactly  _ what kind of strength lies in Shiro’s arms, he’s the guy’s spotter in the school gym for crying out loud. But he’s always touched Keith so gently, so  _ reverently _ .

 

That same touch is inching its way up Keith’s waist. Keith’s mouth falls open, a shaky exhale falling out due to the unintentional tease Shiro is making of his exploration. His wide gray eyes are stuck watching his hands inch up Keith’s body and the way Keith trembles in the wake of his touch.

 

“Fuck,” Keith finally moans, patience spent. He drops on his elbows on top of Shiro, fingers sliding into the other boy’s hair as their mouths meet in a messy kiss. Shiro’s still good at multitasking in the middle of a make-out, but lucky for him that Keith likes a good sloppy kiss every now and then. 

 

While his lips try and capture Shiro’s tongue, Keith’s hips begin a slow grind and roll. Shiro’s response is an immediate, sharp little gasp that makes Keith grin and rub down harder, over and over again until Shiro’s nails scratch down his back, and his voice is breathlessly calling out Keith’s name.

 

Keith about to ask if he can take Shiro’s shirt off when an unfamiliar voice saying, “Oh good, you’re still on the first movie!” has his head shooting up in alarm.

 

Staring up into the queen’s startled face, Keith feels mortification rising up his chest. He scrambles back, narrowly avoiding being clipped in the chin when Shiro sits up squeaking, “Mom! What’re you doing here?” 

 

The queen is standing in the doorway, feathered hat on her head and a peacoat on. She looks torn between amusement and shock when she answers, “Your father and I thought we’d surprise you by coming home early from our trip. I can see our surprise worked.”

 

As he sits back on his heels, still on top of the sofa, Keith looks for for his shirt.  _ Damn it, where’d I drop it _ , he wonders frantically, twitching with the urge to drop to his hands and knees and search for it. 

 

“Dad too?” 

 

Shiro’s horrified question is immediately followed up by the king stepping into the room, a grin on his handsome face as he declares, “Surprise! Oh hello, who’s that?”

 

_ Can the ground please open up and spit me out in China? Or better yet, just fart me out into space? _ Keith prays, squeezing his eyes shut at the king’s question. He clenches his hands into fists on top of his thighs, relieved that at least his dick has softened. That’s one less thing to be embarrassed about.

 

“Is that your boyfriend?” the queen asks, voice perking up in a way that makes Keith twitch. 

 

He’s a second away from just grabbing his jacket and boots and running out of the palace like that because this is just too much embarrassment to deal with, when Shiro’s hand lands on top of his hands. “Mom, dad. Could you give us a minute?”

 

“Right, sorry. Come on dear, let’s give them a chance to pull themselves back together again,” there’s a very distinct amused undercurrent to the king’s request. So much so that the queen poorly stifles her laugh on the way out.

 

Keith groans even before the door closes, tipping forward to bury his heated face against Shiro’s shoulder, “Please kill me.”

 

“Only if you kill me first,” Shiro answers weakly, hugging Keith against his side. His arm is a comforting weight around Keith’s shoulders, tightening when Keith shuffles closer.

 

He’s not sure if he’ll ever get over the embarrassment of the king and queen’s first sight of him being half naked and grinding on their son’s lap. Just thinking about it makes Keith want to curl up into a ball and die. 

 

A pitiful whine rattles in his throat as he rubs his forehead harder against Shiro’s shoulder, “I thought you said they wouldn’t be back till  _ tomorrow _ .”

 

“That’s what they told me,” Shiro groans back. Keith feels him shifting, see’s his leg curl up on the couch before he’s taking hold of Keith in a proper hug. “Sorry about that.”

 

Keith shakes his head, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s waist, “It’s not your fault. But that was  _ seriously  _ embarrassing. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to look your parents in the eye  _ ever _ again.”

 

“Might be a good start to put your shirt on.”

 

“My shirt!” 

 

He dives off the couch, hand scrambling to find his t-shirt. Keith finds it half under the sofa (how in the world had it even...) and quickly slips it on. 

 

“It’s inside out,” Shiro points out with a laugh, causing the other boy to groan and pull the shirt off again. But Keith’s nervous impatience causes his body to get stuck in the collar, causing him to let out several frustrated angry noises that make Shiro break down laughing. “Babe, ease up! Here, let me.”

 

Keith’s ready to snap at Shiro that he can handle putting his shirt on on his own when Shiro’s hands touch his. The fact that they’re shaking faintly have Keith’s irritation going from 100 to 0. He takes a deep breath and mutters, “kay.” 

 

Together, they turn Keith’s shirt the right way and put it back on Keith. Keith licks his lips, asking, “Are you okay?”

 

Shiro keeps his eyes lowered, fingers clutching at the hem of Keith’s shirt. “Yeah.”

 

“Really?” Keith asks, dry and skeptical as he takes hold of Shiro’s hand, which is still trembling.

 

With a reedy laugh, Shiro tips forward. Keith raises his hand to touch the back of the prince’s head, petting the soft buzz cut there as Shiro mumbles, “No. I’m really nervous. I’ve never done this before.” Shiro’s hands go around his waist, tightening their grip as he continues, “I’ve never had to introduce my parents to my boyfriend. Or girlfriend for that matter.”

 

Slippery happiness sloshes around Keith’s insides, warming him up when he asks, “So you’ve never brought anyone home to meet the parents?”

 

“Only kissed  _ one _ person, remember?”

 

“How can I forget,” Keith murmurs, continuing to stroke Shiro’s head. “I had so much fun teaching you how to kiss.”

 

Shiro’s chuckles are muffled against his shirt, part of his tension bleeding away. Keith waits for him to stop laughing before reassuring him, “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never done this either.”

 

Gray eyes pull away to peer at him, “Really? Never?”

 

Keith shakes his head, tenderly combing Shiro’s fringe, “Nope. I’m flying blind too.”

 

“That...  _ does _ help.” Shiro laughs, leaning into Keith’s touch as he cups the prince’s cheek. Shiro’s face feels so hot against his palm. Keith wonders if his face feels half as hot as Shiro’s. He smiles weakly at the half-smile Shiro gives him, “You ready?”

 

“No, but let’s do this.”

 

They stand up together, Keith’s hands sliding down to his side in the move. He wonders whether or not to put his boots back on. Sure Shiro’s barefoot but he’s their son. If Keith wants to make a good impression, he should put his shoes on right? And jacket? And what’s his hair look like anyways? It always looks like a mess after a make-out session because Shiro loves carding his fingers through Keith’s hair.

 

Keith’s self consciously trying to pat his mop down when Shiro’s fingers touch the back of his free hand. “Come on,” Shiro says, smile softening into something proud and happy as he links their fingers together. “I can’t wait for you to meet them.”


End file.
